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Smith, Adam, 1723-1790.
Theory of moral sentiments, or. An essay
towards an analysis of Ihe principles by vvl
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THE
THEORY
O F
MORAL SENTIMENTS;
O R,
AN ESSAY
TOWARDS
An Analysis of the Principles by which Men naturally
judge concerning the Conduct and Character, firft of
their Neighbours, and afterwards of themselves.
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
A DISSERTATION
ON THE
ORIGIN of LANGUAGES.
7
By ADAM S M I T H, L. L. D. F. R. S.
Formerly Profeflbr of Philofophy in the Univerfity of Glafgow } and Auther of the Nature and Caufe of the Wealth of Nations.
THE SIXTH EDITION.
DUBLIN:
Printed for J. Beatty and C. Jackson, No. 32, Skinner«Row, M,DCC,LXXVII.
CONTENTS.
o
PART L
F the Propriety of Action,
SECTION I.
Of thefenfeof propriety Page i.
Chap. I. Of Sympathy ibid.
Chap. II. Of the Pleafure of mutual Sympathy 9
Chap. III. Of the manner in which we judge of the propriety or impropriety of the affeclions of other men, by their concord or diffonance with our own 14;
Chap. IV. ^he fame fubj eel continued 19
Chap. V. Of the amiable and refpeclable virtues 27
SECTION II.
Of the degrees of the different pafiions which are confiftent with propriety 33
Chap. I. Of the pajffions which take their origin from ihe body 3 4
Chap. II. Of thofe pajftons which take their origin from a particular turn or habit of the imagination 4 1
a 2 C h a p.
CONTENTS.
Chap. III. Of the unfocial pajfions Page 46
Chap. IV. Of the f octal pajfwns 54.
Ch a p . V. Of the felfijh pajfions 5 8
SECTION III.
Of the effects of profperity and adverfity upon the judgment of mankind with regard to the propri- ety of action ; and why it is more eafy to obtain their approbation in the one ftate than in the other 46
Chap. I. That though our fympathy with forrow is generally a more lively fenfation than our fympathy with joy , it commonly falls much more jhort of the violence of what is naturally felt by the perfon prin- cipally concerned. ibid.
Chap. II. Of the origin of ambition, and of the dif- tintlion of ranks 74
Chap. III. Of the ftoical phihfophy 89
PART II.
Of Merit and Demerit; or of the objefts of reward and punifhment.
SECTION I.
Of the fenfe of merit and demerit gy
Chap. I. That whatever appears to be the proper ob- jecl oj gratitude, appears to deferve reward -, and that, in the fame manner, whatever appears to be the -proper objecl of refentment, appears to deferve pu* nijkment 98
CONTENTS.
Chap. II. Of the proper objecls of gratitude and re- fentment Page 102
Chap. III. That where there is no approbation of the tonducl of the per/on who confers the benefit l, there is little fympathy with the gratitude of him who re- ceives it : and that, on the contrary \ where there is no difapprobation of the motives of the per/on who does the mif chief there is no fort of fympathy with the refentment of him who fuffers it 1 06
Chap. IV. Recapitulation of the foregoing chap- ters 1 09
Chap. V. The analyfis of the fenfe of merit and demerit 1 1 2
SECTION II.
Of juftice and beneficence i-^4-
Chap. I. Comparif on of thofe two virtues ibid.
Chap. II. Of the fenfe of juftice, of remorfe, mid of the confeioufnefs of merit 1 40
Chap. III. Of the utility of this conftitution of na- ture 133
SECTION III.
Of the influence of fortune upon the fentiments of mankind, with regard to the merit or demerit of actions 147
Chap. I. Of the caufes of this influence of for- tune 148
CONTENT SV
Chap. II. Of the extent of this influence of fortune
Page 154
Chap. III. Of the final caufe of this irregularity of fentiments 167
PART III,
0 Of the foundation of our judgments con- cerning our own fentiments and conduct, and of the fen(6 of duty.
Chap. I. Of the confcioufnefs of merited praife or blame 1 7 3
Chap. II. In what manner our own judgments refer to what ought to he the judgments of others; and of the origin of general rules 180
Chap. III. Of the influence and authority of the general rules of morality, and that they are juftly regarded as the laws of the Deity 207
Chap. IV. /;/ what cafes the fenfe of duty ought to bs the fole principle of our conducl ; and in what cafes it ought to concur with other motives 223
PART IV.
Of theeffedtof utility upon the fentiments of approbation ,
Chap. I. Of the beauty which the appearance of Utility beftows upon all the productions of art, and of the ■ '■':ip!/ive influence of this f pedes of beauty %$7
i*<
CONTENTS.
Chap. II. Of the beauty which the appearance of utility be/lows upon the char after s and aclions of men \ and how far the perception of this beauty may be re- garded as one of the original principles of approbation
Page 250
PART V.
Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion upon the fentiments of moral approbation and difapprobation.
Chap. I. Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion upon our notions of beauty and deformity. 261
Chap. II. Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion upon moral fentiments % 27 1
PART VI.
Of Syftems of Moral Philofophy*
SECTION I.
Of the queftions which ought to be examined in a theory of moral fentiments 29 1
SECTION II.
Of the different accounts which have been given of the nature of virtue, 294
Ch a p . I. Of thofe fyftems which make virtue conjifi in propriety v ?tq7
CONTENTS.
Chap. II. Of thofe fyflems which make virtue con- fft in prudence Page 3 1 1
Chap. III. Of thofe fyflems which make virtue con- Jtji in benevolence 321
C h a p . I V. Of licentious fyftems 331
SECTION III.
Of the different fyflems which have been formed concerning the principle of approbation 34.5
Chap. I. Of thofe fyflems which deduce the principle of approbation from felf4ove 346
Chap. II. Of thofe fyflems which make reafon the
principle of approbation 351
Chap. III. Of thofe fyflems which make fentiment
the principle of approbation 356
SECTION IV.
Of the manner in which different authors have treated of the practical rules of morality 367
Confiderations concerning the fir ft formation of languages, and the different genius of original and compound languages 389
PART I
Of the PROPRIETY ef ACTION.
Confifting of three Sections.
SECTION I. Of the Sense of Propriety.
CHAP. 1
Of S Y M P A T H Y.
H
OW felfifti foever man may be fuppofed, there are evidently fome principles in his nature, which intereft him in the fortune of others, and ren- der their happinefs neceiTary to him, though he de- rives nothing from it, except the pleafure of feeing it. Of this kind is pity or companion, the emotion which we feel for the mifery of others, when we either fee it, or are made to conceive it in a very lively manner. That we often derive forrow from the forrow t£ ethers, is a matter of fad too obvious to require any B inftances
2 0/ Propriety. Tart I.
inftances to prove it ; for this fentiment, like all the other original paflions of human nature, is by no means confined to the virtuous and humane, though they perhaps may feel it with the moil exquifite fen- Ability. The greateft ruffian, the moft hardened violator of the laws of fociety, is not altogether without it.
As we have no immediate experience of what other men feel, we can form no idea of the manner in which they are afFe&ed, but by conceiving what we ourfelves mould fell in the like fituation. Though our brother is upon the rack, as long as we ourfelves are at our eafe, our fenfes will never inform us of what he furTers. They never did and never can car- ry us beyond our own perfon, and it is by the ima- gination only that we can form any conception of what are his fenfations. Neither can that faculty help us to this any other way, than by reprefenting to us what would be our own, if we were in his cafe. It is the imprerTions of our own fenfes only, not thofe of his, which our imaginations copy. By the ima- gination we place ourfelves in his fituation, we con- ceive ourfelves enduring all the fame torments, we enter as it were into his body and become in fome meafure him, and thence form fome idea of his fenfa- tions and even feel fomething which, though weaker in degree, is not altogether unlike them. His agonies, when they are thus brought home to ourfelves, when we have thus-adopted and made them our own, be- gin at laft to affect us, and we then tremble and fhudder at the thought of what he feels. For as to be in pain or diftrefs of any kind excites the moft exceflive forrow, fo to conceive or to imagine that we are in it, excites fome degree of the fame emo- tion,
Sect, i, 0/ Propriety. 3
tion, iri proportion to the vivacity of dulnefs of the conception.
That this is the fource of our fellow-feeling for ~themifery of others, that it is by changing places in fancy with the fufferer, that we come either to con- ceive or to be affected by what he feels, may be de- monflrated by many obvious obfervations, if it thould not be thought fufficiently evident of itfelh When we fee a flroke aimed and j uft ready to fall upon the leg or arm of another perfon, we naturally ihrink and draw back our own leg or our own arm ; and when it does fall, we feel it in forne meafure^ and are hurt by it as well as the fufTerer. The mob9 when they are gazing at a dancer on the flack rope, naturally writhe and twifl and balance their own bo- dies, as they fee him do, and as they feel that they themfelves mud do if in his fituation. Perfons of delicate fibres and a weak conftitution of body, complain that in looking on the fores and ulcers which are expofed by beggars in the ftreets, they are apt to feel an itching or uneafy fenfation in the corre- fpondent part of their own bodies. The horror which they conceive at the mifery of thofe wretches affects that particular part in themfelves more than any other ; becaufe that horror arifes from conceive ing what they themfelves would fuffer, if they really were the wretches whom they are looking upon, and if that particular part in themfelves was actually af- fected in the fame miferable manner. The very force of this conception is fufneient, in their feeble frames, to produce that itching or uneafy fenfation complained of. Men of the moll robuft make, ob- ferve that in looking upon fore eyes they often feel a very fenfible forenefs in their own, which proceeds ^ B2 from
4 Of Propriety. !Part !/
from the' fame reafon; that organ being in the ftrongeft man more delicate than any other part or the body is in the weaken:.
Neither is it thofe circumftances only, which create pain or forrow, that call forth our fellow-feel- ing. Whatever is the palfion which arifes from any object in the perfon principally concerned, an ana- logous emotion fprings up, at the thought of his fi- tuation, in the breaft of every attentive fpedtator. Our joy for the deliverance of thofe heroes of tragedy or romance who intereft us, is asfincere as our grief for their diftrefs, and our fellow-feeling with their mifery is not more real than that with their happinefs. We enter into their gratitude towards thofe faithful friends who did not defert them in their difficulties; and we heartily go along with their refentment againfl thofe perfidious traitors who injured, abandoned, or deceived them. In every pailion of which the mind of man is fufceptible, the emotions of the by-ftander always correfpond to what, by bringing the cafe home to himfelf, he imagines, mould be the fenti-^ ments of the fufferer*
Pity and companion are words appropriated to fignify our fellow-feeling with the forrow of others. Sympathy, though its meaning was, perhaps, origi- nally the fame, may now, however, without much impropriety, be made ufe of to denote our fellow- feeling with any pailion whatever.
Upon fome occafions fympathy may feem to arife merely from the view of a certain emotion in another perfon. ^The paflions, upon fome occafions, may feem to be transfufed from one man to another,
inftantaneoufly,
Sect. i. Of Propriety,
inftantaneoufly, and anteeedent to any knowledge of what excited them in the perfon principally con- cerned. Grief and joy, for example, ftrongly ex- preflfed in the look and geftures of any one, at once afTed the fpe&ator with fome degree of a like painful or agreeable emotion, A mailing face is, to every body that fees it, a chearful object ; as a forrowful countenance, on the other hand, is a melancholy one.
This, however, does not hold univerfally, or with regard to every paflion. There are fome paflions of which the expreflions excite no fort of fympathy, but before we are acquainted with what gave occa- fion to them, ferve rather to difguil and provoke us againft them. The furious behaviour of an angry man is more likely to exafperate us againft himfelf than againft his enemies. As we are unacquainted with his provocation, we cannot bring his cafe home to ourfelves, nor conceive any thing like the paiTions which it excites. But we plainly fee what is the fi- tuation of thofe with whom he is angry, and to what violence they may be expofed from fo enraged an adverfary. We readily, therefore, fympathize with their fear or refentment, and are immediately difpofed to take part againft the man from whom they appear to be in fo much danger.
If the very appearances of grief and joy infpire us with fome degree of the like emotions, it is becaufe they fuggeft to us the general idea of fome good or bad fortune that has befallen the perfon in whom we obferve them : and in thefe paiTions this is fuffi- cient to have fome little influence upon us. The effects of grief and joy terminate in the perfon wh®
B 3 feet
6 Of P r o p i ; i e t y. Part L
feels thofe emotions, of which the expreflions do not, like thofe of refentment, fuggell to us the idea of any other perfon for whom we are concerned, and whofe interefls are oppofite to his. The general idea of good or bad fortune, therefore, creates fome concern for the perfon who has met with it, but the general idea of provocation excites no fympathy with the anger of the man who has received it. Na- ture, it feems, teaches us to be more averfe to enter into this paflion, and, till informed of its caufe, to be difpofed rather to take part againfl: it.
Even our fympathy with the grief or joy of ano- ther, before we are informed of the caufe of either, is always extremely imperfect. General lamentati- ons, which exprefs nothing but the anguifh of the fufferer, create rather a curiofity to inquire into his fituation, along with fome difpofition to fympathize with him, than any actual fympathy that is very fen- fible. The firfl queflion which we alk is, What has befallen you ? Till this be anfwered, tho' we are uneafy both from the vague idea of his misfor- tune, and flill more from torturing ourfelves witlj conjectures about what it may be, yet our fellow- feeling is not very confiderable.
Sympathy, therefore, does not arife fo much frorr* the view of the paflion, as from that of the fituation, which excites it. We fometimes feel for another, a paflion of which he himfelf feems to be altogether incapable j becaufe when we put ourfelves in his cafe, that paflion arifes in our breaft from the ima- gination, though it does not in his from the reality. We blulh for the impudence and rudenefs of ano- ther, though he himfelf appears to have no fenfe of
the
Sed. x." O/Propriety, 7
the impropriety of his own behaviour ; becaufe v/e cannot help feeling with what confufion we ourfelves mould be covered, had we behaved in fo abfurd a manner.
Of all the calamities to which the condition of mortality expofes mankind, the lofs of reafon ap- pears, to thofe who have the leaft fpark of humanity, by far the moil dreadful, and they behold that laft flage of human wretchednefs with deeper commi- ferationthan any other. But the poor wretch, who is in it, laughs and fings perhaps, and is altogether infenfible of his own mifery. The anguifti which humanity feels, therefore, at the fight of fuch an object, cannot be the refledion of any fentiment of the fufferer. The companion of the fpedtator mufl arife altogether from the confideration of what he himfelf would feel if he was reduced to the fame unhappy fituation, and, what perhaps is impoffible, was at the fame time able to regard it with his pre- fent reafon andjudgment.
J
What are the pangs of a mother when (he hears the moaningsof her infant that during the agony of difeafe cannot exprefs what it feels ? In her idea of what it fuffers, ftie joins, to its real helpleffnefs, her own confcioufnefs of that helplefmefs, and her own terrors for the unknown confequences of its diforder j and out of all thefe, forms, for her own forrow, the moll complete image of mifery and diftrefs. The infant, however, feels only the un- eafinefs of the prefent inftant, which can never be great. With regard to the future it is perfedlyfe- cure, and in its^thoughtleffnefs and want of fore- fight poffeffes an antidote againft fear and anxiety,
b S4 the
* Of P r a p r i e t y. Part t
the great tormentors of the human breaft, from which reafon and philofophy will in vain at- tempt to defend it when it grows up to a
man
We fympathize even with the dead, and over- looking what is of real importance in their Jltuation, that awful futurity which awaits them, we are chiefly affefted by thofe circumflances. which flrike our fenfes, but can have no influence upon their happinefs. It is miferable, we think, to.be depriv- ed of the light of the fun • to be (hut out from life and converfation ; to be laid in the cold grave, a prey to corruption and the reptiles of the earth ; to be no more thought of in this world, but to b$ obliterated in a little time from the affections and almoft from the memory of their deareft frienda and relations. Surely, we imagine, we can never feel too much for thofe who have fuffered (o dread-, ful a calamity. The tribute of our fellow-feeling ieems doubly due to them now, when they are in, danger of being forgot by every body ; and, by the vain honours which we pay to their me- mory, we endeavour, for our own mifery, ar- tificially to keep alive our melancholy remem- brance of their misfortune. That our fym- pathy can afford them no confolation ieems to be an addition to their calamity ; and to think that all we can do is unavailing, and that, what alleviates, all other diffrefs, the regret, the love, and the la- mentations of their friends, can yield no comfort to them, ferves only to exafperate our fenfe of their mifery. The happinefs of the dead, however, moil afliiredlv, is affeded by none of thefe circumftances ." flor is it the though txof the fe things which can ever
djft\{fti
Sed. i. O/Proprietv. $
difturb the profound fecurity of their repofe. The idea of that dreary and endlefs melancholy, which the fancy naturally afcribes to their condition, arifes altogether from our joining to the change which has been produced upon them, our own confciouf- nefs of that change, from our putting ourfeives in their fituation, and from our lodging, if I may be allowed to fay fo, our own living fouls in their inani- mated bodies, and thence conceiving what would be our emotions in this cafe. It is from this very illufion of the imagination, that the forefight of our own diffolution is fo terrible to us, and that the idea of thofe circumftances, which undoubtedly can give us no pain when we are dead, makes us miferable while we are alive. And from thence arifes one of the moil important principles in human nature, the dread of death, the great poifon to the happinefs, but the great reftraint upon the injuftice of man- kind, which, while it affli&s and mortifies the indi- vidual, guards and proteds the fociety.
CHAP. II.
Of the Pleafure of mutual Sympathy.
.PUT whatever may be the caufe of fympathy, or however it may be excited, nothing pleafes us more than to obferve in other men a fellow-feeling with all the emotions of our own bread • nor are we ever fo much (hocked as by the appearance of the contrary. Thofe who are fond of deducing all pur fentiments from certain refinements of (elf-love,
think
to ©/Propriety.' \ Part fC
think themfelves at no lofs to account, according to their own principles, both for this pleafure and this pain. Man, fay they, confcious of his own weak- nefs and of the need which he has for the afliftance of others, rejoices whenever he obferves that they adopt his own pailions, becaufe he is then affured ©f that ailiftance; and grieves whenever he ob- ferves the contrary, becaufe he is then afTiired of their oppofition. But both the pleafure and the pain are always felt fo inftantaneoufly, and often upon fuch frivolous occafions, that it feems evident that neither of them can be derived from any fiich felf- Interefted confideration. A man is mortified when, after having endeavoured to divert the company, he looks round and fees that no body laughs at his jefls Ibuthimfelf. On the contrary, the mirth of the com- pany is highly agreeable to him, and he regards this correfpondence of their fentiments with his own as the greateil applaufe.
Neither does his pleafure feem to arife altogether from the additional vivacity which his mirth may leceive from fympathy with theirs, nor his pain from the disappointment he meets with when he mines this pleafure ; though both the one and the other, no doubt, do in fome meafure. When we have read a book or poem fo often that we can no longer find any amufement in reading it by our- felves, we can flill take pleafure in reading it to a companion. To him it has all the graces of novel- ty ; we enter into the furprize and admiration which it naturally excites in him, but which it is.no longer capable of exciting in us -y we confider all the ideas which it prefents rather in the light in which they appear to him, than irvthat in which they appear
to
Seft. i. O/ProHiety, it
to ourfelves, and we are amufed by fympa- thy with his amufement which thus enlivens our own. On the contrary, we fhould be vexed if he did not feem to be entertained with it, and we could no longer take any pleafure in reading it to him. It is the fame cafe here. The mirth of the company, no doubt, enlivens our own mirth, and their filence, no doubt, difappoints us. But though this may contribute both to the pleafure which we derive from the one, and to the pain which we feel from the other, it is by no means the fole caufe of either ; and this correfpondence of the fentiments of others with our own appears to be a caufe of pleafure, and the want of it a caufe of pain, which cannot be ac- counted for in this manner. The fympathy, which my friends exprefs with my joy, might, indeed, give me pleafure by enlivening that joy • but that which they exprefs with my grief could give me none, if it ferved only to enliven that grief. Sympathy, however, enlivens joy and alleviates grief. It en- livens joy by prefenting another fource of fatisfa&i- on ; and it alleviates grief by infinuating into the heart almoft the only agreeable fenfation which it is at that time capable of receiving.
It is to be obferved accordingly, that we are ftill more anxious to communicate to our friends our difagreeable than our agreeable pafTions, that we derive dill more fatisfa&ion from their fympa- thy with the former than from that with the latter, and that we are ftill more mocked by the want of it!
How are the unfortunate relieved when they have found out a perfon to whom they can com- municate the caufe of their forrow? Upon his fym- pathy
iz 0/ Propriet y. Part I\
( pathy they feem to difburthen themfelves of a part
of their diflrefs:. he is not improperly faid to fhare j it with them. He not only feels a forrow of the fame kind with that which they feel, but as if he had derived a part of it to himfelf, what he feels feems to alleviate the weight of what they feel. Yet by relating their misfortunes, they in fome meafure renew their grief.. They awaken in their memory the remembrance of thofe circumttances, which occanon their affliction. Their tears accord- ingly flow falter than before, and they are apt to abandon themfelves to all the weaknefs of forrow. They take pleafure, however, in all this, and,, it is. evident, are fenfibly relieved by it; becaufe the fweetnefs of his fympathy more than compenfates the bitternefs of that forrow, which, in order to excite that fympathy, they had thus enlivened and jenewed. The cruelleft infult, on the contrary, which can be offered to the unfortunate, is to ap- pear to make light of their calamities. To feem not to be affected with the joy of our companions is but want of politenefs •, but not to wear a ferious countenance when they tell us their afflictions, is real and grofs inhumanity.
Love is an agreeable, referitment a difagreeablc paflion- and accordingly we are not half fo anxious that our friends fhould adopt our fnendfhips, as that they fhould enter into our refentments. We can forgive them though they feem to be little af- fected with the 'favours which we may have receiv- ed,, but lofe all patience if they feem indifferent about the injuries which may have been done to us: nor are we half fo angry with them for not entering into our gratitude, asibr not fympathizing with our
refentment.
£ea. i/ Of Prop ri et y; 13
reientment. They can eafily avoid being friends .to our friends, but can hardly avoid being enemies to thofe with whom we are at variance. We fel- dom rcfent their being at enmity with the firft, though upon that account we may fometimes affect to make an aukward quarrel with them ; but we quarrel with them in good earneft if they live in Friendfhip with the laft. The agreeable paflions of love and joy can fatisfy and fupport the heart with- out any auxiliary pleafure. The bitter and painful emotions of grief and refentment more flrongly re- quire the healing confclation of fympathy.
As the perfon who is principally interefted in any event is pleafed with our fympathy, and hurt by the want of it, fo we, too, feem to be pleafed when we are able to fympathize with him, and to be hurt when we are unable to do fo. We run not only to congratulate the fuccefsful, but to condole with the affli&ed ; and the pleafure which we find in the convention of one whom in all the pailions of his heart we can entirely fympathize with, feems to do more than compenfate the painfulnefs of that for- row with which the view of his fituation affedts us.. On the contrary, it is always difagreeable to feel ■that we cannot fympathize with him, and inflead of being pleafed with this exemption from fympathetic pain, it hurts us to find that we cannot (hare his uneafmefs. If we hear a perfon loudly lamenting his misfortunes, which, however, upon bringing the cafe home to ourfelves, we feel, can produce no fuch violent effecl: upon us, we are mocked at his grief; and, becaufe we cannot enter into it, call .it pufiilanimity and weaknefs. It gives US/ the fpleen, on the other hand, to fee another too hap- py
14 0/ Propriety. Part t
py or too much elevated, as we call it, with any little piece of good fortune. We are difobliged even with his joy, and, becaufe we cannot go along with it, call it levity and folly. We are even put out of humour if our companion laughs louder or longer at a joke than we think it deferves ; that is, than we feel that we ourfelves could laugh at it.
A CHAP. III.
Of the manner in which we judge of the propriety or hit- propriety of the affeclions of other men, by their concord or diffonance with our own.
WHEN the original paflions of the perfoii principally concerned are in perfect con- cord with the lympathetic emotions of the fpedta- tor, they necefiarily appear to this lafl jufl and proper, and fuitable to their objects ; and, on the contrary, when, upon bringing the cafe home to himfelf, he finds that they do not coincide with what he feels, they necefiarily appear to him unjufl and improper, and unfuitable to the caufes which excite them. To approve of the paflions of ano- ther, therefore, as fuitable to their objects, is the' fame thing as to obferve that we entirely fympathize with them ; and not to approve of them as fuch, is the fame thing as to obferve that we do not en~ tirely fympathize withvthem. The man who re- fents the injuries that have been done to me, and
obferves
SeA. i. Of Propriety. 15
obferves that I refent them precifely as he does, ne- ceifarily approves of my refentment. The man whofe fympathy keeps time to my grief, cannot but admit the reafonablenefs of my forrow. He who admires the fame poem, or the fame picture, and admires them exa&ly as I do, muft furely allow the juftncfs of my admiration. He who laughs at the fame joke, and laughs along with me, cannot well deny the propriety of my laughter. On the •contrary, the perfon who, upon thefe different oc- cafions, either feels no fuch emotion as that which I feel, or feels none that bears any proportion to mine, cannot avoid difapproving my fentiments on account of their diffonance with, his own. If my animofity goes beyond what the indignation of my friend can correfpond to ; if my grief exceeds what his moft tender companion can go along with; if my admiration is either too high or too low to tally with his own ; if I laugh loud and heartily when he only fmiles, or, on the contrary, only fmile when he laughs loud and heartily ; in all thefe cafes, as foon as he comes from confidering the object, to obferve how I am( affected by it, according as there is more or lefs difproportion between his fentiments and mine, I mull incur a greater or lefs degree of his difapprobation : and upon all occafions his own fentiments are the ilandards and meafures by which he judges of mine.
To approve of another man's opinions is to adopt thofe opinions, and to adopt them is to approve of them. If the fame arguments which convince you convince me likewife, I neceffarily approve ,of your conviction >, and if they do not, I neceffarily difap- • prove of it : neitiier can I poffibly conceive that I
fhoujci
i6 O/Propriety. Part h
fliould do the one without the other. To approve or difapprove, therefore, of the opinions of others is acknowledged, by every body, to mean no more than to obferve their agreement or di (agreement with our own. But this is equally the cafe with regard to our approbation or difapprobation of the fentiments or paiftons of others.
There are, indeed, fome cafes in which we feerri to approve without any fympathy or correfpondence of fentiments, and in which, confequeritly, the fen- timent of approbation would feerri to be different from the perception of this coincidence. A little attention, however, will convince us that even in thefe cafes our approbation is ultimately founded upon a fympathy or correfpondence of this kind. I fhall give an inftance in things of a very frivolous nature, becaufe in them the ^judgments of mankind are lefs apt to be perverted by wrongTyitems. We may often approve of a jell, and think the laughter of the company quite juft and proper, though we ourfelves do not laugh, becaufe, perhaps, we are in a grave humour, or happen to have our attention engaged with other objects. We have learned, however, from experience, what fort of pleafantry Is upon mofl occafions capable of making us laugh, and we obferve that this is one of that kind. We approve, therefore, of the laughter of the company, and feel that it is natural and fuitable to its object ; becaufe, though in our prefent mood we cannot eafily enter into it, we are fenfible that upon mofl occa- fions we mould very heartily join in it.
The fame thing often happens with regard to all the other paflions, A ftranger pafles by us in the
ilreet
Sect, i. Of Propriety. 17
ilreet with all the marks of the deepeit affliction* and we are immediately told that he has jufl re- ceived the news of the death of his father. It is im- poilible that, in this cafe, we mould not approve of his grief. Yet it may often happen, without any defect of humanity on our part, that, fo far from entering into the violence of his forrow, we ihoutd fcarce conceive the firft movements of concern upon his account. Both he and his father, perhaps, are intirely unknown to us, or we happen to he employed about other things, and do not take time to picture out in our imagination the different circumflances of diftrefs which mufl occur to him. We have learn- ed, however, from experience, that fuch a misfor- tune naturally excites fuch a degree of forrow, and we know that if we took time to confider his fitua- tion, fully and in all its parts, we mould, without doubt, moil fmcerely fympathize with him. It is upon the confcioufnefs of this conditional fympathy, that our approbation of his forrow is founded, even in thole cafes in which that fympathy does not ac- tually take place ; and the general rules derived from our preceding experience of what our fenti- ments would commonly correfpond with, correct upon this, as upon many other occafions, the impro- priety of our prefent emotions.
The fentiment or affection of the heart from which any action proceeds, and upon which its whole virtue or vice mufl ultimately depend, may be con- fidered under two different afpects, or in two diffe- rent relations; firft, in relation to the caufe which excites it, or the motive which gives occafion to it; and fecondly, in relation to the end which it propofes, or the effect which it tends to produce.
C In
18 O/Propriety. Part I.
In the fuitablenefs or unfuitablenefs, in the pro- portion or difproportion which the affection feems to bear to the caufe or object which excites it, con- firms the propriety or impropriety, the decency or ungracefulnefs of the confequent action.
In the beneficial or hurtful nature of the effects which the affection aims at, or tends to produce, confifts the merit or demerit of the action, the qua- lities by which it is entitled to reward, or is deferv- rag of punifhment.
Philofo pliers have, of late years, confidered chiefly the tendency of affections, and have given little attention to the relation which they ltand in to the caufe which excites them. In common life, however, when we judge of any perfon's conduct, and of the fentiments which directed it, we conflantly confider them under both thefe afpects. When we blame in another man the exceffes of love, of grief, of refent- ment, we not only confider the ruinous effects which they tend to produce, but the little occafion which was given for them. The merit of his favou- rite, we fay, is not fo great, his misfortune is not fo dreadful, his provocation is not fo extraordinary, as to j uft if y fo violent a paffion. We fhould have in- dulged, we fay; perhaps, have approved of the vio- lence of his emotion, had the caufe been in any re- fpect proportioned to it.
When we judge in this manner of any affection, as proportioned or difproportioned to the caufe which excites it, it is fcarce poilible. that we mould make life of any other rule or canon but the correspondent affection in ourfelves. If, upon bringing the cafe
S*6t t. O/Propriety, \§
home to our own breaft, we find that the fentiments which it gives occafion to, coincide and tally with our own, we neceffarily approve of them as propor- tioned and fuitable to their objects^ if other wife, we neceflarily difapprove of them, as extravagant and out of proportion.
tvery faculty in one man is the meafure by which he judges of the like faculty in another. I judge of your fight by my fight, of your ear by my ear, of your reafon by my reafon, of your refentment by my refentment, of your love by my love. I neither have nor can have any other way of judging about them.
CHAP. JV.
The fame fubjecl- continued
W E may judge of the propriety or impropriety of the fentiments of another perfon by their corre- fpondence or difagreement with our own, upon two different occafions ; either, fiift, when the objects- which excite them are conlidered without any pe- culiar relation, either to themfelves or to the perfon whofe fentiments we judge of; orA fecondly, when they are confidered as peculiarly affe&ing one or ©ther of us.
G 2 t . With
£o Of Propriety. Parti.
i. With regard to thofe objects which are con- fidered without any peculiar relation either to our- felves or to the perfon whofe fentiments we judge of; wherever his fentiments intirely correfpond with our own, we afcribe to him the qualities of tafte and good judgment. The beauty of a plain, the greatnefs of a mountain, the ornaments of a build- ing, the expreffion of a picture, the compofition of a difcourfe, the conducVof a third perfon, the pro- portions of different quantities and numbers, the various appearances which the great machine of the univerfe is perpetually exhibiting, with the fecret wheels and fprings which produce them; all the general fabjects of fcience and tafte, are what we and our companions regard, as having no peculiar relation to either of us. We both look at them from the fame point of view, and we have no oc- cafion for fympathy, or for that imaginary change of fituations from which it arifes, in order to pro- duce, with regard to thefe, the moft perfect harmony of fentiments and affections. If, notwithstanding, we are often differently affected, it arifes either from the different degrees of attention, which our diffe- rent habits of life allow us to give eafily to the feveral parts of thofe complex objects, or from the different degrees of natural acutenefs in the faculty of the mind to which they are addreffed.
When die fentiments $)f our companion coincide with our own in things of this kind, which are ob- vious and eafy, and in which, perhaps, we never found a fingle perfon who differed from us, though we, no doubt, mufl approve of them, yet he feem's to deferve no praife or admiration on account of them. But when they not only coincide with our
own-
Sect. I. Of Propriety. 21
own, but lead and direct our own ; when in forming them he appears to have attended to many things which we had overlooked, and to have adjufted them to all the various circumftances of their objects ; we not only approve of them, but wonder and are furprifed at their uncommon and unexpected ac- cutenefs and comprehenfivenefs, and he appears to deferve a very high degree of admiration and ap- plaufe. For approbation heightened by wonder and furprife, conftitutes the fentiment which is properly called admiration, and of which applaufe is the na- tural expreffion. The decifion of the man who judges that exquifite beauty is preferable to the groffeft deformity, or that twice two are equal to four, mull certainly be approved of by all the world, but will not, furely, be much admired. It is the acute and delicate difcernment of the man of tafte, who diftitjguim.es the minute, and fcarce perceptible., differences of beauty and deformity ; it is the com- prehenfive accuracy of the experienced mathemati- cian, who unravels, with eafe, the molt intricate and perplexed proportions ; it is the great leader in fcience and tafte, the man who directs and conducts our own fentiments, the extent and fuperior juftnefs of whofe talents aftonifti us with wonder and fur- prife, who excites our admiration and feems to de- ferve our applaufe : and upon this foundation is grounded the greater part of the praife which is beftowed upon what are called the intellectual virtues.
The utility of thofe qualities, it may be thought, is what firft recommends them to us j and, no doubt, the confideration of this, when we come to attend to it, -gives them a new value. Originally, however,
C q we
22 0/ Propriety. Part I.
we approve of another man's judgment, not as fome- thing ufeful, but as right, as accurate, as agreeable to truth and reality : and it is evident we attribute thofe qualities to it for no other reafon but becaufe we find that it agrees with our own. Tafte, in the fame manner, is originally approved of, not as ufe- ful, but as juft, as delicate, and as precifely fuited to its object The idea of the utility of all qualities of this kind, is plainly an after-thought, and not what tirft recommended them to our approbation.
%. With regard to thofe objects, which affect in a particular manner either ourfelves or the perfon whofe fentiments we judge of, it is at once more difficult to preferve this harmony and correfpon- dence, and at the fame time, vaftly more important. My companion does not naturally look upon the misfortune that has befallen me, or the injury that has been done me, from the fame point of view in which I confider them. They affect me much more nearly. We do not view them from the fame ftation, as we do a picture, -or a poem, or a.fyftem cf philofophv, and are, therefore, apt to be verv dirTerently affected by them. But I can much more jeafily overlook the want of this correfpondence of fentiments with regard to fuch indifferent objects as concern neither me nor my companion, than with regard to what interefts me ib much as the misfor- tune that has befallen me, or the injury that lias been done me. Though you defplfe that picture, or that poem, or even that fyftem of philofophv, which I admire, there is little danger of our quarrelling upon that account. Neither of us can reafonahly be much interefted about them. They ought all flf them to be matters of great indifference to us
"'-;-■ both,
Sedt. i. Of Propriety. 23
both; fo that, though our opinions may be oppofite, our affections may dill be very nearly the fame. But it is quite other wife with regard to thofe objects by which either you or I are particularly affected. Though your judgment in matters of (peculation, though your fentiments in matters of taite, are quite -oppofite to mine, I can eafily overlook this oppofition.; and if I have any degree of temper, I may ftill find forne entertainment in yom conver- fation, even upon thofe very fubjedts. But if you have either no fellow-feeling for the misfortunes I have met with, or none that bears any proportion to the grief which didradts me -, or if you have either no indignation at the injuries I have futTered, or none that bears any proportion to the refentment which tranfports me, we can no longer converfe upon thefe fubjedts. We become intolerable to or\Q another. I can neither fupport your company, nor you mine. You are confounded at my violence stud pailion, and I am enraged at your cold infenfi- bility and want of feeling.
In all fuch cafes, that there may be fome corref- pondence of fentiments between the fpedtator and the perfon principally concerned, the fpectator mud, firft of all, endeavour, as much as he can, to put him (elf in the fituation of the other, and to bring Jiome to himfelf every little eircurhftahce of diftfefs which can poilibly occur to the fufferer. He mud adopt the whole cafe of his companion with all its minuted incidents j and drive to render as perfect as poiiible, that imaginary change of fituation upon v/hich his fvmpathy is founded.
After all this, however, the emotions of the fpec-r tafor will ftill be very apt to fall lTiort of the violence
C A
24 0/P RopRiETY. . Part I.
of what is felt by the fufferer. Mankind, though naturally fympathetic, never conceive, for what has befallen another, that degree of paflion which na- turally animates the perfon principally concerned. That imaginary change of fitnation, upon which their fympathy is founded, is but momentary. The thought of their own fafety, the thought that they themfelves are not really the fufferers, contin- ally intrudes itfelf upqn them ; and though it does not hinder them from conceiving a paffion fome- what analogous to what i$ felt by the fufferer, hin- ders them from conceiving any thing that approaches to the fame degree of violence. The perfon princi- pally concerned is fenfible of this, and, at the fame time paffionately defires a more complete fympathy. He longs for that relief which nothing can afford him but the entire concord of the affections of the fpe&ators with his own. To fee the emotions of their hearts, in every refpecl, beat time to his own, in the violent and difagreeable pafiions, conflitutes his fole confolation. But he can only hope to ob- tain this .by lowering his paflion to that pitch, in which the fpectators are capable of going along with him. He mull flatten, if I may be allowed to fay fo, the lliarpnefs of its natural tone, in order to reduce it to harmony and concord with the emo- tions of thofe who are about him. What they feel, will, indeed, always be, in fome refped'ts, dif- ferent from what he feels, and companion can never be exactly the fame with original forrow • becaufe the fecret corifcioufnefs that the change of fituations, from which the fympathetic fentiment arifes, is but imaginary, not only lowers it in degree, but in fome mre, varies it in kind, and gives it a quite diffe- v rent
Sect, i. Of Propriety. 2$
rent modification. Thefe two fentiments, how- ever, may, it is evident, have fuch a correfpondence with one another, as is fufncient for the harmony of fociety. Though they will never be unifons, they may be concords, and this is ail that is wanted or required.
In order to produce this concord, as nature teaches the fpectators to aifume the circumftances of the perfon principally concerned, fo fhe teaches this laft in fome meafure to affume thofe of the fpectators. As they are continually placing themfelves in this fituation, and thence conceiving emotions fimilar to what he feels ; fo he is as conflantly placing himfelf in theirs, and thence conceiving fome degree of that coolnefs about his own fortune, with which he is fen* fible that they will view it. As they are conflantly confidering what they themfelves would feel, if they actually were the fufrerers, fo he is as conftantly led to imagine in what manner he would be affected if he was only one of the fpectators of his own fitu- ation. As their fympathy makes them look at it, in fome meafure, with his eyes, fo his fympathy makes him look at it, in fome meafure, with theirs, efpecialiy when in their prefence and acting under their obfervation: and as the reflected pailion, which he thus conceives, is much weaker than the original one, it necefiarily abates the violence of what he felt before he came into their prefence, before he began to recollect in what manner they would be affected by it, and to view his fituation in this candid and impartial light.
The
26 Of Propriety. Part I,
The mind, therefore, h rarely fo difcurbed, but that the company of a friend will reftore it to fome degree of tranquillity and fedatenefs. The breaft is, in fome meafare, calmed and compofed the mo- ment we come into his prefence. We are imme- diately put in mind of the light in which he will view our fituation, and we begin to view it ourfelves in the fame light ; for the effect of fympathy is in- ftantaneous. We expect left fympathy from a com- mon acquaintance than from a friend : we cannot open to the former all thofe Rttle circumftances which we can unfold to the latter : we a flume, therefore, more tranquillity before him, and endea- vour to fix our thoughts upon thofe general out ■ lines of our fituation which he is willing to confider. We expect ftill leis fympathy from an aflfembly of ftran^ers, and we affume, therefore, ftill more tran- quillity before them, and always endeavour to bring down our paflion to that pitch, which the particular company we are in may be expecled to go along with. Nor is this only an a(Tumed appearance : for if we are at all matters of ourfelves, the prefence of a mere acquaintance will really compofe us, ftill more than that of a friend ; and that of an ailernbly of ftrangers ftill more than that of an acquaint- ance.
Society and coverfation, therefore, are the' mof| powerful remedies for reftoring the mind to its tranquillity, if, at any time, it has unfortunately loft it • as well as the belt prefervatives of that equal and happy temper, which is fo neceilary to felf- fatisfa£tion and enjoyment. Men of r / ' remerit and' fpeciilation, who ate apt to fit brooding at borne
over
Sect, i. cy Propriety. 27
over either grief or refentment, though they may often have more humanity, more generofity, and a nicer fenfe of honour, yet feldom poiTefs that equality of temper which is fo common among men of the world.
CHAP. V.
Of the amiable and refpetlable virtues.
LJ P O N thefe two different efforts, upon that of the fpectator to enter into the fentiments of the peffon principally concerned, and upon that of the perfon principally concerned, to bring down his emotions to what the fpedtator can go along with, are founded two different fets of virtues. The foft, the gentle, the amiable virtues, the virtues of candid condefcenfion and indulgent humanity, are founded upon the one : the great, the awful and refpectable, the virtues of felf-denial, of felf-government, of that command of the paffions which fubjects ail the movements of our nature to what our own dignity and honour, and the propriety of our own conduct require, derive their origin from the other.
How amiable does he appear to be, whofe fym- pathetic heart feems to re-echo all the fentiments of thofe with whom he converfes, who grieves for their calamities, who relents their injuries, and re- f
ioices
2B 0/ Propriety, Fart I,
joices at their good fortune ! When we bring home to ourfelves the fituation of his companions, we Enter into their gratitude, and feel what confoiation they mull derive from the tender fympathy of fo affectionate a friend. And for a contrary reafon, how difagreeable does he appear to be, whofe hard and obdurate heart feels for himfelf only, but is alto- gether infenfible of the happinefsor mifery of others! We enter, in this cafe too, into the pain which his prefence muff give to every mortal with whom he converfes, to thofe efpecially with whom we are mod apt to fympathize, the unfortunate and the in- jured.
On the other hand, what noble propriety and grace do we feel in the conduct of thofe who, in their own cafe, exert that recollection and fclf- command which conftitute the dignity of every paflion, and which bring it down to what others can enter into? We are difgufted with that clamo- rous grief, which, without any delicacy, calls upon our compailion with fighs and tears and importunate lamentations. But we reverence that referved, that filent and majeflic forrow, which difcovers itfelf only in the fwelling of the eyes, in the quivering of the lips and cheeks, and i-n the diftant, but affecting, coldnefs of the whole behaviour. It impofes tfo$ like filence upon us. We regard it with refpectful attention, and watch with anxious concern over our whole behaviour, left by any impropriety we fhouid difiurb that concerted tranquillity, which it requires fo great an effort to llipport.
The infolence and brutality of anger, in the fame manner when we indulge its fury wjiheitat check or
- reftraint,
Sect i. Of Propriety. 2^
reftraint, is, of all fubjects, the mofl deteflable. But v/e admire that noble and generous refentment which governs its purfuit of the greater! injuries, not by the rage which they are apt to excite in the bread of the fulTerer, but by the indignation which they naturally call forth in that of the impartial fpec- tator; which allows no word, no gefture, to efcape it beyond what this more equitable fentiment would dictate^ which never, even in thought, attempts any greater vengeance, nor defires to inflict any greater punifhment, than what every indifferent perfon would rejoice to fee executed.
And hence it is, that to feel much for others and little for ourfeives, that toreflrain our feliifh, and to indulge our benevolent affections, conflitutes the perfection of human nature; and can alone produce among mankind that harmony of fentiments and paiEons in which confiil their whole grace and pro- priety. As to love our neighbour *as we love our- feives is the great law of chfifrianity, fo it is the great precept of nature to love ourfeives only as we love our neighbour, or what comes to the fame thing, as our neighbour is capable of loving us.
As tafle and good judgmenr, when they are con- fidered as qualities which deferve praife and admi- ration, are fuppofed to imply a delicacy of fentiment and an acutenefs of understanding not commonly to be met with; fo the virtues of fen Ability and felf- comnaand are not apprehended to eonMrl in the or- dinary, but in the uncommon degrees of thofe qua- lities. The amiable virtue of humanity requires, fureiy, a feniibility, much beyond what is porTeiied by the rude vulgar of mankind The great and
exalte (J
30 Of P r o p r i e t y. Part I.
exalted virtue of magnanimity undoubtedly de- mands much more than that degree of felf-com- mand, which the weakeft of mortals are capable of exerting. As in the common degree of the intel- lectual qualities, there are no abilities ; fo in the common degree of the moral, there is no virtue. Virtue is excellence, fomething uncommonly great and beautiful, which rifes far above what is vulgar and ordinary. The amiable virtues confift in that degree of fenfibility which furprizes by its exquifite and unexpected delicacy and tendernefs. The aw- ful and refpectable, in that degree of felf-command which aftonifhes by its amazing fuperiority over the moll ungovernable paffions of human nature.
There is, in this refpect, a confiderable difference between virtue and mere propriety ; between thofe qualities and actions which deferve to be admired and celebrated, and thofe which fimply deferve to be approved of. Upon many occafions, to act with the mod perfect propriety, requires no more than that common and ordinary degree of fenfibility or felf-command which the molt worthlefs of man- kind are polfeffed of, and fometimes even that de- gree is not neceffary. Thus, to give a very low in- ftance, to eat when we are hungry, is certainly, up- on ordinary occafions, perfectly right and proper, and cannot mifs being approved of as fuch by every body. Nothing, however, Could be more abfurd than to fay it is virtuous.
On the contrary, there may frequently be a con- fiderable degree of virtue in thofe actions, which fall fhort of the moft perfect propriety ; becaufe they may ft ill approach nearer to perfection than
coul4
8fe<Sc. i. G/Fropriety. 31
could well be expected upon occafions in which it was fo extremely difficult to attain it : and this is very often the cafe upon thofe occafions which re- quire the greater! exertions of felf-command. There are fame filiations which bear fo hard upon human nature, that die greatefl degree of felf-government, which can belong to fo imperfect a creature as man., is not able to 'iiifle, altogether, the voice of human weaknefs, or reduce the violence of the pallions to that pitch of moderation, in which the impartial, fpeclator can entirely enter into them. Though m thofe cafes, therefore, the behaviour of the fufferci fall lliort of the moil perfect propriety, it may (till deferve Come applaufe, and even in a certain fenfe, may be denominated virtuous. It may ftill rnani- feft an effort of generofity and magnanimity of which the greater part of men are incapable ; and though it fails of abioiute perfection, it may he a much nearer approximation to waives perfection, than s\ hat, upon fiich trying occafions, is commonly ei~ tlier to be found or to be expedited.
In cafes of this kind, when we are determining The degree of blame or applaufe which feems due to any adiion, we very frequently make ufe of two different frandards. The firft is the idea of com- plete propriety and perfection, which, in thofe dif- ficult Situations, no human conduct ever did, or even can come up to ; and in comparifon with which the adtions of all men mult for ever appear blameable and imperfect. The fecond is the idea of that degree of proximity or diflance from this com- plete perfection, which the actions of the greater part of men commonly arrive at Whatever goes beyond this degree, how far foey«r it may be re- moved
32 O/Propriety, Part I.
moved from abfolute perfection, feems to deferve applaufe ; and whatever falls fhort of it, to deferve blame.
It Is in the fame manner that> we judge of the productions of all arts which addrefs themfelves to the imagination. When a critic examines the work of any of the great mafters for poetry or painting, he may fometimes examine it by an idea of perfec- tion, in his own mind, which neither that nor any other human work will ever come up to ; and as long as he compares it with this ftandard, he can fee nothing in it but faults and imperfections. But when he come to confider the rank which it ought to hold among other works of the fame kind, he neceffarily compares it with a very different ftandard, the common degree of excellence which is ufually attained in this particular art ; and when he judges of it by this new meafure, it may often appear to deferve the higheft applaufe, upon account of its approaching much riearer to perfection than the greater part of thofe works which can be brought into competition with it.
SECTION
■
Seft. 2. 0/ Propriety. 33
SECTION It
Of the degrees of the different paflions which are confiftent with propriety,
INTRODUCTION.
HE propriety of every paflion excited by ob- jects peculiarly related to ourfelves, the pitch which the fpe&ator can go along with, mufi He, it is evident, in certain mediocrity. If the paifion is too high, or if it is too low, he cannot enter into it. Grief and refentment for private misfortunes and in- juries may eafily, for example, be too high, and in the greater part of mankind they are fo. They may likewife^ though this more rarely happens, be too low. We denominate the excefs, weaknels and fury : and we call the defect, ftupidity, infenfibility, and want of fpirit. We can enter into neither of them, but are aftoniihed and confounded to fee them.
This mediocrity, however, in which the point ot propriety confifts, is different in different paflions. it is high in ibme, and low in others There are Ibriie pallions which it is indecent to exprefs very Rrongly, even upon thofe occafions, in which it is D acknowledged
34 0/ Propriety. Part L
acknowledged that we cannot avoid feeling them in the higheft degree. And there are others of which the flrongeft expreflions are upon many oc- cafions extremely graceful, even though the paffions themfelves do noty perhaps, arife fo neceffarily. The firft are thofe pafTions with which, for certain reafons, there is little or no fympathy : the fecond are thofe with which, for other reafons^ there is the greatefl. And if we confider all the different paf- fions of human nature, we (hall find that they are regarded as decent, or indecent, juft in proportion as mankind are more or lefs difpofed to iympathize with them.
CHAP. I
Of the paffions which take their origin from the body.
,i
T is indecent to exprefs any flrong degree of thofe pafTions which arife from a certain fituation or difpofition of the body ; becaufe the company, not being in the fame difpofition, cannot be expected to fympathize with them. Violent hunger, for ex- ample, though upon many occafions not only na- tural, but unavoidable^ is always indecent, and to eat voracioufly is univerfally regarded as a piece of ill manners. There is, however, fome degree of fympathy, even with hunger. It is agreeable to fee our companions eat with a good appetite, and all
expi^flions
Sect. 2. Of P R O F R I E t k. 35
expreffions of loathing are ofFenfive. The difpofi- tion of body which is habitual to a man in health, makes- his flomach eafily keep time, if I may be allowed fo coarfe an expreflion, with the one, and not with the other. We can fympathlze with the diftrefs which exceffive hunger occafions when we read the defcription of it in the journal of a fiege, or of a fea voyage. We imagine ourfelves in the fituation of the fufferers, and thence readily con- ceive the grief, the fear and conflernation, which mufi neceflarily diftract them. We feel, ourfelves, fome degree of thofe pafliohs, and therefore fym- pathize with them : but as we do not grow hungry by reading the defcription, we cannot properly, even ill this cafe, be faid to fympathize with their hunger.
It- is the fame cafe with the pafllon by which Na- ture unites the two fexes. Though naturally the moil furious of all pafi?ons, all ftrong expreffions of it are upon every occafion indecent, even between perfons in whom its moll complete indulgence is ac- knowledged by all laws, both human and divine, to be perfectly innocent. There feems, however, to be fome degree of fympathy even with this pa f- fion. To talk to a woman as we mould to a man is improper: it is expected that their company fhould infpire us with more gaiety, more pleafantry, and more attention • and an intire infenfibility to the fair fex, renders a man contemptible in fome meafure even to the men.
Such is our averfion for all the appetites which
take their origin from the body : all llrong expref-
fions of them are ioathfome and difagreeable. Ac-
D 2 ' cording
$6 0/ Propriety. Parti.
cording to fome antient philoiopners, tnefe are the paflions which we (hare in common with the brutes, and which having no connexion widi the charadter- iflical qualities of human nature, are upon that ac* count beneath its dignity. But there are many other paifions which we fhare in common with the brutes, fuch as refentment, natural affection, even gratitude, which do not, upon that account, ap- pear to be fo brutal. The true caufe of the peculiar difguft which we conceive for the appetites of the body when we fee them in other men, is that we cannot enter into them. To the perfon himfelf who feels them, as foon as they are gratified, the object ihit excited them ceafes to be agreeable i even its prefence often becomes ofFenfive to him ; he looks round to no purpofe for the charm which tranfported him the moment before, and he can now as little enter into his own pafhon as another perfon. When we have dined, we order the co- vers to be removed ; and we mould treat in the fame manner the objects of the mofl ardent and paflionate defires, if they were the objects of no other paflions but thofe which take their origin from the body.
In the command of fhofe appetites of the body confifls that virtue which is properly called tempe- rance. To reflrain them .within thofe bounds, which regard to" health and fortune prefcribes, is the part of prudence. But to confine them within thofe limits, which grace, which propriety, which de- licacy, and modelly, require, is the office of tem- perance.
2. It is for the fame reafon that to cry out with bodily pain, how intolerable foever, appears always
Humanly
Sect. 2, 0/P|Of riety. . 37
unmanly and unbecoming. There is, however, a good deal of fympathy even with bodily pain. If, as has already been obferved, I fee a flroke aimed, and juft ready to fall upon the leg or arm, of another perfon, I naturally llirink and draw back my own leg, or my own arm ; and when it does fall, I feel it in fome meafure, and am hurt by it as well as the fufferer. My hurt, however, is, no doub^, excef- fively flight, and, upon that account, if he makes any violent out-cry, as I cannot go along with him, I never fail to defpife him. And this is the cafe of all the pailions which take their origin from the body : they excite either no fympathy at all, or fuch a de- gree of it, as is altogether difproportioned to the violence of what is felt by the fufterer.
It is quite otherwife with thofe pailions which take their origin from the imagination. The frame of my body can be but little arTecled by the alterations which are brought about upon that of my compa- nion : but my imagination is more ductile, and more readily afTumes, if I may fo^. the fhape and configuration of the imaginations of thofe with whom I am familiar. A difappointment in love, or ambition, will, upon this account, call forth more fympathy than the greatefl bodily evil. Thofe paf- fions ariie altogether from the imagination. The perfon who has loll his whole fortune, if he is in health, feels nothing in his body. What he fufrers is from the imagination only, which reprefems to him the lofs of his dignity, neglect from his friends, contempt from his enemies, dependence, want, and mifery, coming faft upon him ; and we fympathize with him more ftrongly upon this account, becaufe our imaginations can more readily mould themieives D 3 upon
58 O/Propriety. Part I.
upon his imagination, than bur bodies can mould themfelves upon his body.
The lofs of a leg may generally be regarded as a more real calamity than the lofs of a miftrefs. It would be a ridiculous tragedy, however, of which the cataflrophe was to turn upon a lofs of that kind. A misfortune of the other kind, how frivolous fo- ever it may appear to be, has given occafion to ma- ny a fine one.
Nothing is fo loon forgot as pain. The moment it is gone the whole agony of it is over, and the thought of it can no longer give us any fort of dis- turbance. We or.rfeives cannot then enter into the anxiety and anguim which we had before conceived. An unguarded word from a friend will occafion a more durable uneafmefs. The agony which this creates is by no means over with the word. What at firft difturbs us is not the objecl; of the fenfes, but the idea of the imagination. As it is an idea, therefore, which occafions our uneafinefs, till time and other accidents have in' fome meafure effaced it from our memory, the imagination continues to fret and rankle within, from the thought of it.
Pain never calls forth any very lively fympathv unlefs it is accompanied with danger. We fympa- thize with the fear, though not with the agony of the fufferer. Fear, however, is a paflion derived altogether from the imagination, which reprefents, with an uncertainty and flu&uatjon that mcreafes our anxiety, not what we really feel, but what we may hereafter poifibly fuffer. The gout or the toolh-ach, though exqujfitely painful, excite very
little
gedt. 2. 0/ P r o p $ i e t y. 39
little fympathy j more dangerous difeafes, though accompanied with very little pain, excite the high-
Some people faint and grow fick at the fight of a chirurgical operation, and that bodily pain which is occafioned by tearing the item, feems, in them, to excite the moil excefiive fympathy. We con- ceive in a much more lively and 4iftin<^ manner, the pain which proceeds from an external caufe, that* we do that which arifes from an internal diforder. I can fcarce form an idea of the agonies of my neighbour when he is tortured with the gout, or the ftone ; but I have the cleareft conception of what he muft fuffer from an incifion, a wound, or a frac- ture. The chief caufe, however, why fuch obje&s produce fuch violent effect upon us, is their novelty. One who has been witnefs to a dozen difle&ions, and as many amputations, fees, ever after, all ope- rations of this kind with great indifference, and of- ten with perfect inlenfibility. Though we have read or feen reprefented more than live hundred tragedies, we fnall feldom fefil fo entire an abatement of our fenfibility to the object which they reprefent to us.
In fome of the Greek tragedies there is an attempt to excite companion, by the reprefentation of the agonies of bodily pain. Phik>c~tetes cries out and faints from the extremity of his fufferings. Hip- polytus and Hercules are both introduced as expir- ing under the fevereft tortures, which, it feerns, even the fortitude of Hercules was incapable of fup- porting. In all theie cafes, however, it is not the pain which interefls us, but fome other circumftance. D 4 It
40 0/ P r o p r i e t Y, Part I.
It is not the fore foot, but the folitude, of Philoo tetes which affefts us, and diffufes over that charm- ing tragedy, that romantic wildnefs, which is fo agreeable to the imagination. The agonies of Her- cules and Hippolytus are interefled only becaufe we forefee that death is to be the confequence. If thofe heroes were to recover, we fhould think the repre- fentation of their fufFerings perfectly ridiculous. What a tragedy would that be of which the diftrefs confifted in a colic. Yet no pain is more exquifite. Thefe attempts to excite companion by the repre- fentation of bodily pain, may be regarded as among the greateft breaches of decorum of which the Greek theatre has fet the example,
The little fympathy which we feel with bodily pain is the foundation of the propriety of conflancy and patience in enduring it. The man, who under the feverefl tortures allows no weaknefs to efcape him, vents no groan> gives way to no paflion which we do not entirely enter into, commands our high- eft admiration. His firmnefs enables him to keep time with our indifference and infenfibility. We admire and entirely go along with the magnanimous effort which he makes for this purpofe. We ap- prove of his behaviour, and from our experience of the common weaknefs of human nature, we are fur- prifed, and wonder how he fhould be able to aft fo \as to deferve approbation. Approbation, mixed and animated by wonder and furprife, conflitutes the fentiment which is properly called admiration, of which, applaufe is the natural exprefnon, as has. al- ready been obferved.
C H A P.
Seel. z. O/Propriety. a\
CHAP. II.
Of thofe pajfions which take their origin from a particular turn or habit of the imagination.
E
VEN of the paflions derived from the imagi- nation, thofe which take their origin from a peculiar turn or habit it has acquired, though they may be acknowledged to be perfectly natural, are, however, but little fympathized with. The imaginations of mankind, not having acquired that particular turn, cannot enter into them ; and fuch pailions, though they may be allowed to be almoft unavoidable in fome part of life, are always in fome meafure ridi- culous. This is the cafe with that ftrong attach- ment which naturally grows up between two perfons of different fexes, who have long fixed their thoughts upon one another. Our imagination not having run in the fame channel with that of the lover, we can- not enter into the eagernefs of his emotions. If our friend has been injured, we readily fympathize with his refentment, and grow angry with 'the very perfon with whom he is angry. If he has received a benefit, we readily enter into his gratitude, and have a very high fenfe of the merit of his benefactor. But if he is in love, though we may think his paf- fion juft as reasonable as any of the kind, yet we never think ourfelves bound to conceive a paffion of the fame kind, and for the fame perfon for whom he has conceived it. The -paiiion appears to eve- ry body, but the man who feels it, entirely difpro-
portioned
££ O/Propriity. Part I.
portioned to the value of the object; and love, though it is pardoned in a certain age becaufe wc know it is natural, is always laughed at, becaufe we cannot enter into it, All ferious and ftrong ex- preffions of it appear ridiculous to a third perfon ; and though a lover may be good company to his miftrefs, he is fo to nobody elfe. He himfelf is fen- fible of this ; and as long as. he continues in his fober fenfes, endeavours to treat his own paifion with rail- lery and ridicule. It is the only ftyle in which we care to hear of it; becaufe it is the only flyle ir> which we ourfelves are dnpofed to talk of it. We grow weary of the grave, pedantic, and long-fen- tenced love of Cowley and Propertius, who never have done with exaggerating the violence of their attachments; but the gaiety of Ovid, and the gal- lantry of Horace, are always agreeable.
But though we feel no proper rympathy with an attachment of this kind, though we never approach even in imagination towards conceiving a pafilon for that particular perfqn, yet as we either have conceived, oif may be difpofed to conceive, paflions of the fame kind, we readily enter into thofe high hopes of happinefs which are propofed from its gra- tification, as well as into that exquifite diftrefs which is feared from its 4^aPP°>ntment- ft interefls us not as a paiVion, but as a fituation that gives occafion to other paffions which intereil us; to hope, to fear, and to diflrefs of every kind : in the fame manner as in a defcription of a fea voyage, it is not the hunger which interefls us, but the diilrefs which that hunger occafions. Though we do not properly enter into the attachment of the lover, we readily go along with thofe expeditions of romantic happinefs which
he
Seel. 2. O/Propriet y. qg
he derives from it. We feel how natural it is for the mind, in a certain fituation, relaxed with indo- lence, and fatigued with the violence of defire, to long for ferenity and quiet, to hope to find them in the gratification of that paflion which diftra&s it, and to frame to itfelf the idea of that life of pafto- ral tranquillity and retirement which the elegant, the tender, and the paflionate Tibullus takes fo much pleafure in defcribing; a life like what the poets de- fcribe in the Fortunate Iflands, a life of frrendfhip, liberty, and repofe ; free from labour, and from care, and from all the turbulent paflions which attend them. Even fcenes of this kind intereft us rnoft when they are painted rather as what is hoped, than as what is enjoyed. The groflhefs of that paflion. which mixes with, and is, perhaps, the foundation of love, [difappears when its gratification is far off and at a diftance; but renders the whole offenfiye when defcribed as what is immediately pofiefled. The happy paflion, upon this account, interefls us much lefs than the fearful and the melancholy. We tremble for whatever can difappoint fuch natu- ral and agreeable hopes : and thus enter into all the anxiety, and concern, and diftrefs of the lover,
Hence it is, that, in fome modern tragedies and romances, this paflion appears fo wonderfully inte- refling. It is not fo much the love of Caftalk) and Monimia which attaches us in the Orphan, as the di- ftrefs which that love occafions. The author who mould introduce two lovers, in a fcene of perfect fecurity, exprefling their mutual fondnefs for one another, would excite laughter, and not fympathy. If a fcene of this kind is ever admitted into a tra- gedy, it is always, in fome meafure, improper, and
is
44 G/Propruty. Parti.
is endured, not from any fympathy with the paflion that is expreffed in it, but from concern for the dangers and difficulties with which the audience forefee that its gratification is likely to be attended.
The referve which the laws of fociety impofe upon the fair fex, with regard to this weaknefs, ren- ders it more peculiarly diftrefsful in them, and, upon that very account, more deeply interelling. We are charmed with the love of Phaedra, as it is ex- preffed in the French tragedy of that name, not- withstanding all the exLravagance and guilt which attends it. That very extravagance and guilt may be faid, in fame meafure, to recommend it to us. Her fear, her fhame, her remorie, her horror, her defpair, become thereby more natural and in- terefting. All the fecondary paiTions, if I may be allowed to call them fo, which arife from the fitu- ation of love, become necelfarily more furious and violent : and it is with thefe fecondary pafiions only that we can properly be faid to fympathize.
Of all the paffions, however, which are fo ex- travagantly difproportioned to the value of their objects, love is the only one that appears, even to the weaken: minds, to have any thing in it that is either graceful or agreeable. In itfelf, firft of all, though it may be ridiculous, it is not naturally odious i and though its confequences are often fatal and dreadful, its intentions are feldom mifchievous. And then, though there is little propriety in the paflion itfeif, there is a good deal in ibme of thofe which always accompany it. There is in love a flrong mixture of humanity, generality, kindnefs, friendfhip, eftecrn> paiTions with which, of all
others.
Sect. 2. Of P r o £ r i e f y. 45
others, for reafons which (hall be explained imme- diately., we have the greatefl propenfity to fympa- thize, even notwithstanding we are fenfible that they are* in Tome rrieafure, excefllve. The fympathy which we feel with them, renders the paflion which they accompany lefs difagreeable^ and fupports it in our imagination, notwithstanding all the vices which commonly go along with it; though in the one fex it neceifarily leads to ruin and infamy; and though in the other, where it is apprehended to be leait fatal, it is almoft always attended with an in- capacity for labour, a neglect of duty, a contempt of fame, and even of common reputation. Not- withflanding all this, the degree of fenfibility and generofity with which it is fuppofed to be accom- panied, renders it to many the object of vanity; and they are fond of appearing capable of feeling what would do them no honour if they had really- felt it.
It is for a reafbn of the fame kind, that a certain referve is neceffary when we talk of our own friends, our own fludies, our own profefTions. All thefe are objects which we cannot expect mould interefl our companions in the fame degree in which they interefl Us. And it is for want of this referve, that the one half of mankind make bad company to the other. A philolbpher is company to a philofopher only; 1 the member of a club, to his own little knot of .companions.
CHAP,
46 O/Propriety. Part I,
CHAP. Jit
Of the Unfocial pajfions.
HERE is another fet of paflions," which though derived from the imagination* yet before we can enter into them, or regard them as graceful or be- coming, mufl always be brought down to a pitch much lower than that to which undifciplined na- ture would raife them. Thefe are hatred and re- fentment, with all their different modifications. With regard to all fuch paflions, our fympathy is divided between the perfon who feels them and the perfon who is the object of them. The interefls of thefe two are directly oppofite. What our fympa- thy with the perfon who feels them would prompt us to wifh for, our fellow-feeling with the other Would lead us to fear; As they are both men, we are concerned for both, and our fear for what the one may fuffer, damps our refentment for what the other has fuffered. Our fympathy, therefore, with the man who has received the provocation, necefla- rily falls fhort of the paflion which naturally animates him, not only upon account of thofe general caufes which render all fympathetic pailions inferior to the original ones, but^ipon account of that particular caufe which is peculiar to itfelf, our oppofite fympa- thy
Sect. 2. Of P r o p & t e t y. 47
thy with another perfon. Before refentment, there- fore, can become graceful and agreeable, it mult be more humbled and brought down below that pitch to which it would naturally rife, than almoft any other paflion.
Mankind, at the fame time, have a very flrong fenfe of the injuries that are done to another. The villain, in a tragedy or romance, is as much the ob- ject of our indignation, as the hero is that of our fympathy and . affection. We deteft Iago as much as we efleem Othello ; and delight as much in the punifhment of the one, as we are grieved at the di- ftrefs of the other. But though mankind have fo ftrong a fellow-feeling with the injuries that are done to their brethren, they do not always re.fent them the more that the fufferer appears] to refent them. Upon moll: occafions, the greater his pa- tience, his mildnefs^ his humanity, provided it does not appear that he wants fpirit, or that fear was the motive of his forbearance, the higher the refentment againfl the perfon who injured him. The amiable- nefs of the character exafperates their fenfe of the atrocity of the injury,
Thefe pallions, however* are regarded as necefTary parts of the character of human nature. A perfon1 becomes contemptible who tamely fits flill, and fub- , mits to infults, without attempting either to repel or to revenge them. We cannot enter into his indif- ference and mfeniibility : we call his behaviour mean- fpiritednefs, and are as really provoked by it as b v the infolence of his adverfary. Even the mob r^e enraged to fee any man fubmit patiently to affrc cits and ill ufage. They defire to fee this infolence re- fen .ted-.
Of Propriety. Part I.
faited, and refented by the perfon who fuffers from it. They cry to him with fury, to defend, or to re- venge himfelf. If his indignation rouzes at laft, they heartily applaud, and fympathize with it. It enlivens their own indignation againfl his enemy, ■whom they rejoice to fee him attack in turn, and are as really gratified by his revenge, provided it is Dot immoderate, as if the injury had been done to themfelves.
But though the utility of thofe paffions to the in^ dividual, by rendering it dangerous to infult or in- jure him, be acknowledged; and though their utility to the public, as the guardians of juftice, and of the equality of its adminiftration, be not lefs confider- able, as mail be fhewn hereafter-, yet there is flill fomething difagreeable in the paffions themfelves, which makes the appearance of them in other men the natural objed of cur avernon. The expreffion of anger towards any body prefent, if it exceeds a bare intimation that we are fenfible of his ill ufage, is regarded not only as an infult to that particular perfon, but as a rudenefs to the whole company. Refpedt for them ought to have retrained us from giving way to fo boifterous and offenfive an emotion. It is the remote effects of thefe paffions which are agreeable; the immediate effe&s are mifchief to the perfon againft whom they are directed. But it \s the immediate, and not the remote effects of ob- jects which render them agreeable or diiagreeable ,to the imagination. A prifon is certainly more ufeful to the public than a palace; and the perfon wiHo founds the one is generally directed by a much jufler fpirit of p&triotifm, than he who builds the other. Eur the immediate effects of a prrfon, the
confinement
Sect. £. Of F R o p ,r i e t Y. j&
confinement of the wretches (hut up in it, are dif- agreeable ; and the imagination either does not take time to trace out the remote ones, or fees them at too great a diflance to be much affected by them. A prifon, therefore, will always be a difagreeable object- and the fitter it is for the purpofe for which it was intended, it will be the more fo. A palace, on the contrary, will always be agreeable • yet its remote effects may often be inconvenient to the public. It may ferve to promote luxury, and fet the example of the diffolution of manners. Its im- mediate effects, however, the conveniency, the plea- fure, and the gaiety of the people who live in it, being all agreeable, and fuggefting to the imagi- nation a thoufand agreeable ideas, that faculty ge- nerally refts upon them, and feldom goes further in tracing its more diflant confequences. Trophies of the inftruments of mufic or of agriculture, imi- tated in painting or in flucco, make a common and an agreeable ornament of our halls and dining-rooms. A trophy of the fame kind, compofed of the inftru- ments of furgery, of diiiecting and amputation- knives, of faws for cutting the bones, of trepanning inftruments, &c. would be abfurd and mocking. Inftruments of furgery, however, are always more finely polilhed, and generally more nicely adapted to the purpofes for which they are intended, than inftruments of agriculture. The remote effedts of them too, the health of the patient, is agreeable, yet as the immediate effect of them is pain and fuf- fering, the fight of them always difpleafes us. In- ftruments of war are agreeable, though their imme- diate effect may feeixi to be in the fame manner pain and fullering. But then it is the pain and fuffering of our enemies, with whom we have no fympathy.
E With
$o O/Propriety.' Part I.
With regard to us, they are immediately connected with the agreeable ideas of courage, victory, and honour. They are themfelves, therefore, fuppofed to make one of the noblelt parts of drefs, and the imitation of them one of the fineft ornaments of architecture. : It is the fame cafe with the qualities of the mind. The ancient ftoics were of opinion, that as the world was governed by the all-ruling providence of a wife, powerful, and good God, every Jingle event ought to be regarded, as making a necelfary part of the plan of the univerfe, and as tending to promote the general order and happinefs of the whole: that the vices and follies of mankind, therefore, made as neceffary a part of this plan as their wifdom or their virtue; and by that eternal art which educes good from ill, were made to tend equally to the profperity and perfection of the great fyftem of nature. No fpeculation of this kind, however, how deeply foever it might be rooted iti the mind, could diminim our natural abhorrence for vice, whofe immediate effects are fo destructive, and whofe remote ones are too diftant to be traced by the imagination.
It is the fame cafe with thofe paffions we have been juft now confidering. Their immediate effects are fo difagreeable, that even when they are molt juftly provoked, there is itill fomething about them which, difgufts us. Thefe, therefore, are the only paffions of which the expreflions, as I formerly ob~ ferved, do not difpofe and prepare us to fympathize with them, before we are informed of the caufe which excites them. The plaintive voice of mifery, when heard at a* diflance, will not allow us to be indifferent about the perfon from whom it comes.
As
Seel. 2. O/Propriet y. gx
As foon as it ftrikes our ear, it interests us in his for- tune, and, if continued, forces us almoft involun- tarily to fly to his affiftance. The fight of a fmiling countenance, in the fame manner, elevates even the penfive into that gay and airy mood, which difpofes him to fympathize with, and (hare the joy which it exprelfes; and he feels his heart, which with thought and care was before that fhrunk and depreffed, in- ftantly expanded and elated. But it is quite other- wife with the expreffions of hatred and refentment. The hoarfe, boiflerous, and difcordant voice of anger, when heard at a diflance, infpires us either with fear or averfion, We do not fly towards it as to one who cries out with pain and agony. Wo- men, and men of weak nerves, tremble and are. overcome with fear, though fenfible that themfelves are not the -objects of the anger. They conceive fear, however, by putting themfelves in the filia- tion of the perfon who is fo. Even thofe of flouter hearts are diflurbed ; not indeed enough to make them afraid, but enough to make them angry ; for anger is the paffion which they would feel in the fili- ation- of the other perfon. It is the fame cafe with hatred. Mere expreffions of fpite infpire it a^ainfl no body, but the man who ufes them. Both thefe pafiions are by nature the objects of our averfion. Their difagreeable and boiflerous appearance never excites, never prepares, and often diflurbs our fyrri- pathy. Grief does not more powerfully engage and attract us to the perfon in whom we obferve it, than thefe, while we are ignorant of their caufe, difguft and detach us from him. It was, it feems, the intention of Nature, that thofe rougher and more unenviable emotions, which drive men from one another, mould be lefs eafily and mere rarely com- municated.
E z When
5* Of Pr o r r i e t Y> Part L
When inufic imitates the modulations of grief or joy, it either actually infpires us with thofe pallions, or at leaft puts us in the mood which difpofes us to conceive them. But when it imitates the notes of anger, it infpires us with fear. Joy, grief, love, admiration, devotion, are all of them pafhons which are naturally mufical. Their natural tones are all foft, clear, and melodious •> and they naturally ex- prefs themfelves in periods which are diftinguilhed by regular paufes, and which upon that account are eafily adapted to the regular returns of the correspon- dent airs of a tune. The voice of anger, on the contrary, and of all the paiTions which are akin to it, is harm and difcordant. It periods too are all irregular, fometimes very long, and fometimes very fliort, and diftinguifhed by no regular paufes. It is with difficulty, therefore, that mufic can imitate any of thofe pafiions; and the mufic ' which does imitate them is not the mofl agreeable. A whole entertainment may confiir, without any impropriety, of the imitation of the focial and agreeable pallions. It would be a flrange entertainment which confuted altogether of the imitations of hatred and refent- menu
If thofe paiTions are difagreeable to the fpectator, they are not lefs fo to the perfon who feels them. Hatred and anger are the greateft poifon to the happinefs-of a good mind. There is, in the very feeling of thofe pallions, fomething harfh, jarring, and convulfive, fomething that tears and diffracts the breaft, and is altogether defcructive of that com- pofure and tranquillity of mind which is fo neceffary to happinefs, and which is. bed promoted by the
contrary
Sect. 2. O/Propriety. 53
contrary paflions of gratitude and love. It is not the value of what they lofe by the perfidy and in- gratitude of thofe they live with, which the gene- rous and humane are moft apt to regret. Whatever they may have loft, they can generally be very happy without it. What moft diilurbs them is the idea of perfidy and ingratitude exercifed towards themfelves; and the difcordant and difagreeable paflions which this excites, conftitutes, in their own opinion, the chief part of the injury which they furler.
How many things are requifite to render the gratification of refentment compleatly agreeable, and to make the fpectator thoroughly fympathize with our revenge? The provocation mutt firft of all be fuch that we mould become contemptible, and be expofed to perpetual infults, if we did not, in fome meafure, refent it. Smaller offences are al- ways better neglected ; nor is there any thing more defpicable than that froward and captious humour which takes fire upon every flight occafion of quar- rel. We mould refent more from a Cenk of the propriety of refentment, from a fenfe that mankind expect and require it of us, than becaufe we feel in ourfehes the furies of that difagreeable paffion. There is no paiiion, of which the human mind is capable, concerning whofe juftnefs we ought to be fo doubtful, concerning whofe indulgence we ought fo carefully to confult our natural fenfe of propriety, or fo diligently to confider what will be the fenti- ments of the impartial fpectator. Magnanimity, or a regard to maintain our own rank and dignity in fociety,-. is the only motive which can ennoble the expreiiions of this difagreeable pafiion. Tins mo-
E 3 tiK
54 Of Propriety. Parti.
live muft characterize our whole ftile and deport- ment. Thefe mull be plain, open, and direct; determined without pofitivenefs, and elevated with- out infolence; not only free from petulance and low fcurrility, but generous, candid, and full of all proper regards, even for the perfon who has offend- ed us. It muft appear, in lhort, from our whole manner, without our labouring affectedly to exprefs it, thatpaflion has not extinguifhed our humanity; and that if we yield to the dictates of revenge, it is with reluctance, from neceiTity, and in confequence of great and repeated provocations. When refent- ment is guarded and qualified in this manner, it may be admitted to be even generous and noble.
CHAP. IV,
Of the focial pajfiow,
JLjl S it is a divided fympathy which renders the whole fet of pailions juft now mentioned, upon moft occafions, fo ungraceful and difagreeable ; fo there is another fet oppofite to thefe, which a re- doubled fympathy renders almoft' always peculiarly agreeable and becoming. Generofity, humanity, kindnefs, companion, mutual friend (hip and eiteem, all the focial and benevolent affections, when ex-. prefTed in the countenance or behaviour, even to- wards
Sect. 2. O/Proprie^ty. 55
wards thofe who are peculiarly connected with our- felves, pleafe the indifferent fpectator upon almoft every occafion. Hisfympathy with the perfon who feels thofe palfions, exactly coincides with his con- cern for the perfon who is the object of them. The intereft, which, as a man, he is obliged to take in the happinefs of this laft, enlivens his fellow-feelino- with the fentiments of the other, whofe emotions are employed about the fame object. We have always, therefore, the ftrongeft difpofition to fympathize with the benevolent affections. They appear in every refpect agreeable to us. We enter into the fatisfaction both of the perfon who feels them and of the perfon who is the object of them. For as to to be the object of hatred and indignation gives more pain than ail the evils which a brave man can fear from his enemies; fo there is a fatisfaction in the c;onfcioufnefs of being beloved, which, to a perfon of dejicacy and .fenfi.bility, is of more importance to happinefs than all the advantage which he can expect to derive from it. What character is fo de- tectable as that of one who takes pleafure to fow diffenfion among friends, and to turn their mod ten- der love into mortal hatred ? Yet wherein does the atrocity of this fo much abhorred injury conilft? Is it in depriving them of the frivolous good offices which had their friendfhip continued, they mio-ht have expected from one another ? It is in depriving them of that friendfhip itfejf, in robbing them of each others affections, from which both derived fo much fatisfaction ; it is in diiturbing the harmony of their hearts, and putting an end to that happy com- merce which had before fubfifted between them. Thefe affections, that harmony, this commerce, are felt, not only by the tender and the delicate, but by
E 4 the
$6 O/Propristy,. Part I.
the rudell vulgar of mankind, to be of more impor- tance to happinefs than all the little fervices which could be expected to flow from them.
The fentiment of love is, in itfelf, agreeable to the perfon who feels it. It fooths and compotes the breaft, teems to favour the vital motions, and to promote the healthful {late of the human confti- tution- and it is rendered ilill more delightful by the ccnfcioufnefs of the gratitude and fati'sf action which it mull excite in him who is the object of it. Their mutual regard renders them happy in one another, and fympathy, with this mutual regard ] makes them agreeable to every other perfon/ With what pleafure do we look upon a family, through the whole of which reign mutual love and efleemr where the parents and children are companions for one another, without any other difference than what is made by refpectful affection on the one fide, and kind indulgence on the other; where freedom and fondnefs, mutual raillery, and mutual kindnefs, fhow that no oppofition of intereil divides the bro- thers, nor any rivalihip of favour fets the fillers at variance, and where every thing prefents us with the idea of peace, chearfulnefs, harmony, and con- tentment ? On the contrary, how uneafy are we made when we go into a houfe in which jarring contention fets one half of thofe who dwt\i in it asainfl the other: where amidft affected fmooth- nefs and complaifance, fufpi clous looks and iudden Harts of paflion betray the mutual jeajoufies which burn within them, and which are every moment ready to burfl out through all the reflraints which the prefence of the company impofes ?
Thofe
Sedt 2. 0/ Propriety. 57
Thofe amiable paflions, even when they are ac- knowledged to be exceiTive, are never regarded with averfion. There is fomething agreeable even in the weaknefs of friendfhip and humanity. The too tender mother, the too indulgent father, the too ge- nerous and afTe&ionate friend, may fometimes, per- haps, on account of the foftnefs of their natures, be looked upon with a fpecies of pity, In which, how- ever, there is a mixture of love, but can never be regarded with hatred and averfion, nor even with contempt, unlefs by the moil brutal and worthlefs of mankind: It is always with concern, with fym- pathy and kindnefs, that we blame them for the ex- travagance of their attachment. There is a help- lefTnefs in the character of extreme humanity which more than any thing interefls our pity. There is nothing in itfelf which renders it either ungraceful or difagreeable. We only regret that it is unfit for the world, becaufe the world is unworthy of it, and becaufe it muft expofe the perfon who is endowed with it as a prey to the perfidy and ingratitude of infmuating falfhood, and to a thcufand pains and uneafinenes, which, of all men, he the ieaft de- ferves to feel, and which generally too he is, of all men, the leaft capable of fupporting. It is quite otherwife with hatred and refentment. Too violent a propenfity to thofe deteftable pafiions, renders $ perfon the object of univerfal dread and abhorrence, who, like a wild beaft, ought, we think, to be hunt- ed out of all civil focietv.
CHA P
58 0/P ropriety. Part I.
CHAP. V.
Of the felfijb pa/fans.
B
ESIDES thofe two oppofite fets of paffions, the focial and unfocial, there is another which holds a fort of middle place between them ; is never either fo graceful as is fometimes the one fet, nor is ever 'To odious as is fometimes the other. Grief and joy, when conceived upon account of our own pri- vate good or bad fortune, constitute this third fet of paflions. Even when exceffive, they are never fo difagreeable as exceflive refentment, becaufe no op- pofite f mpathy can ever intereft us againft them : and when mod fuitable to their objects they are ne- ver fo agreeable as impartial humanity and juft be- nevolence; becaufe no double fy mpathy can ever intereft us for them. There is, however, this dif- ference between grief and joy, that we are generally moil: difpofed to fympathize with fmall joys and.great forrows. The man, who, by fome fudden revolu- tion of fortune, is lifted up all at once into a condi- tion of life, greatly above what he had formerly liv- ed in, may be aiTured that the congratulations of his beft friends are not all of them perfectly fincere. An upftart, though of the greateft* merit, is gene- rally difagreeable, and a fentiment of envy com- monly prevents u§ from heartily fympathizing with hisjoy. If he has any judgment he is fenfible of
this,
Sect. 2, O/Propriety, $$
this, and inftead of appearing to be elated with his good fortune, he endeavours, as much as he can, to fmother his joy, and keep down that elevation of mind with which his new circumftances naturally in- fpire him. He affects the fame plainnefs of drefs, and the fame modefty of behaviour, which became him in his former ftation.. He redoubles his atten- tion to his old friends, and endeavours more than ever to be humble, afliduous, and complaifant. And this is the behaviour which in his fituation we moil approve of -, becaufe we expect, it feems, that he mould have more fympathy v/ith our envy and aver- fion to his happinefs, than we have with his happn nefs. It is feldom that with all this he fucceeds. We fufpect the fincerity of his humility, and he grows weary of this conflraint. In a little time, therefore, he generally leaves all his old friends be- hind him, fome of the meaneft of them excepted, who may, perhaps, condefcend to become his de- pendents : nor does he always acquire any new ones; the pride of his new connections is as much affront- ed at rinding him their equal, as that of his old ones had been by his becoming their fuperior : and it re- quires the molt obftinate and perfevering modefty to atone for this mortification to either. He gene- rally grows weary too foon, and is provoked, by the fullen and fufpicious pride of the one, and by the faucy contempt of the other, to treat the firft with neglect, and the fecond with petulance, till at lafl he grows habitually infolent, and forfeits the eiteem of all. If the chief part of human happi- nefs arifes from the confcioufnefs of being beloved, as I believe it does, thofe fudden changes of for- tune feldom contribute much to happinefs. He is happiefi who advances more gradually to greatnefs,
whom
6o O/Prgpriety, ; Part I.
whom the public deftines to every flep of his pre- ferment long before he arrives at it, in whom, upon that account, when it comes, it can excite no ex- travagant joy, and with regard to whom it cannot reafonably create either any jealoufy in thofe he over- takes, or any envy in thofe he leaves behind.
Mankind, however, more readily fympathize with thofe fmallerjoys which flow from lefs impor- tant caufes. It is decent to be humble amidft great profperity ; but we can fcarce exprefs too much fa- tisfaclion in all the little occurrences of common life, in the company with which we fpent the even- ing laft night, in the entertainment that was let be- fore us, in what was faid and what was done, in all the little incidents of the prefent converfation, and in all thofe frivolous nothings which fill up the void of human life. Nothing is more graceful than habitual chearfulnefs, which is always founded up- on a peculiar relilh for all the little pleafures which common occurrences afford. We readily fympa- thize with it : it infpires us with the fame joy, and makes every trifle turn up to us in the fame agree- able afpec\ in which it prefents itfelf to the perfon endowed with this happy difpofition. Hence it is that youth, the feafon of gaiety, io eafily engages our affeclions. That propensity to joy which feems even to animate the bloom, and to fparkle from the eyes of youth and beauty, though in a perfon of the fame fex, exalts, even the aged, to a more joyous mood than ordinary. They forget, for a time, their infirmities, and abandon- themielves to thofe agreeable ideas and emotions to which they have long been flrangers, but which, • ben the pre-
v
Se&. 2. O/Propriety. fo
fence of fo much happinefs recalls tHem to their bread, take their place there, like old acquaintance, from whom they are forry to have ever been parted, and whom they embrace more heartily upon ac- count of this long feparation.
It is quite otherwife with grief. Small vexations excite no Sympathy, but deep affliction calls forth the greater!:. The man who is made uneafy by eve- ry little difagreeable incident, who is hurt if either the cook or the butler have failed in the leail article of their duty, who feels every defect in the higher! ceremonial of poiitenefs, whether it be (hewn to himfeif or to any other perfon, who takes it amifs that his intimate friend did not bid him good-mor- ig.v when they met in the forenoon, and that his brother hummed a tune all the time he himfeif was telling a flory ; who is put out of humour by the badnefs of the weather when in the country, by the badnefs of the roads when upon a journey, and by the want of company, and dullnefs of all public diverfions when in town ; fuch a perfon, I fay, though he fhould have fome reafon, will feldom meet with much fympathy. Joy is a pleafant emo- tion, and we gladly abandon ourfelves to it upon the flighted occafion. We readily, therefore, fym- pathize with it in others, whenever we are not pre- judiced by envy. But grief is painful, and the mind, even when it is our own misfortune, natu- rally refifls and recoils from it. We would endea- vour, either not to conceive it at all, or to fliake it off as foon as we have conceived it. Our averilon to grief will not, indeed, always hinder us from conceiving it in our own cafe upon very trifling oc- casions,
62 Of Pr o p r i e t y. Part I.
cafions, but it conftantly prevents us from fympa- thizing with it in others when excited by the like frivolous caufes: for our fympathetic paflions are always lefs irrefiftible than our original ones. There is, befides, a malice in mankind, which not only prevents all fympathy with little uneafmeifes, but renders them in fome meafure diverting. Hence the delight which we all take in raillery, and in the fmall vexation which we obferve in our compa- nion, when he is pufhed, and urged, and teafed upon all fides. Men of the moft ordinary good- breeding diiTemble the pain which any little inci- dent may give them ; and thole who are more tho- roughly formed to fociety, turn, of their own ac- cord, all fuch' incidents into raillery, as they know their companions will do for them. The habit which a man, who lives in the world, has acquired of confidering how every thing that concerns him- felf will appear to others, makes thofe frivolous ca- lamities turn up in the fame ridiculous light to him, in which he knows they will certainly be confidered by them.
Our fympathy, on the contrary, with deep dif- trefs, is very ftrong and very fincere. It is unne- ceffary to give an inftance. We weep even at the feigned reprefentation of a tragedy. If you la- bour, therefore, under any fignal calamity, if by fome extraordinary misfortune you are fallen into poverty, into difeafes, into difgrace and difappoint- ment ; even though your own fault may have been, in part, the occafion, yet you may generally de- pend upon the fincereft fympathy of all your friends, and, as far as interefi and honour will per-
Sea. 2. 0/ Propriety: 6$
mit, upon their kindefl affiftance too. But if your misfortune is not of this dreadful kind, if you have only been a little baulked in your ambition, if you have only been jilted by your miftrefs, or are only hen-pecked by your wife, lay your account with the raillery of all your acquaintance.
SECTION
46 O/PnopRitTY. Parti.
SECTION III.
Of the effects of profperity and adverfity upon the judgment of mankind with regard to the propriety of adtion ; and why it is more eafy to obtain their approbation in the one ftate than in the other.
CHAP. I.
That though onrfympathy with for row is generally a more lively fenfation than our Sympathy with joy •, it commonly falls much more port of the violence of what is naturally felt by the perfon principally concerned.
V>IUR fympathy with forrow, though not more real, has been more taken notice of than our fym- pathy with joy. The word fympathy, in its mcil proper and primitive fignification, denotes our fellow- feeling with the fufTerings, not that with the enjoy- ments, of others. A late ingenious and fubtile phi- lofopher thought it necevtary to prove, by arguments, that we had a real fympathy with joy, and that con- gratulation was a principle of human nature. No- body, I believe, ever thought it neceffary to prove that companion was fuch.
Firtt of all, ourSyrnpathy with forrow is, in fome fenfe, more univerfai than that with joy. Though
iorrow
Sect. 3. O/Propriety. &g
forrow is exceiTive, we may ftill have fome fellow- feeling with it. What we feel does not, indeed, in this cafe* amount to that complete fympathy, to that perfect harmony and correfpondence of fenti- ments which conftitutes approbation. We do not weep, and exclaim, and lament, with the fufferer. We are fenfible, on the contrary, of his weaknefs* and of the extravagance of his paiTion, and yet often feel a very fenfible concern upon his account. But if we do not entirely enter into, and go along with, the joy of another, we have no fort of regard or fellow-feeling for it. The man who (kips and dances about with that intemperate and fenfelefs joy which we cannot accompany him in, is the object of our contempt and indignation.
Pain befides, whether of mind or body, is a more pungent fenfation than pleafure, and our fympathy with .pain, though it falls greatly ftiort of what is naturally felt by the fufferer, is generally a more lively and diftinct perception than our fympathy with pleafure, though this lair often approaches more nearly, as I mail (how immediately, to the natural vivacity of the original paiTion,
Over and above all this, we often ftruggle to keep down our fympathy with the forrow of others. Whenever we are not under the obfervation of the fufferer, we endeavour, for our own fake, to fupprefs it as much as we can, and we are not always fuccefsfuk The oppofition which we make to it, and the reluc- tance with which we yield to it, necelTarily oblige us to take mere particular notice of it. But we never have occafion to make this oppofition to our fym- pathy with joy, If there is any envy in the cafe,
F we
66 Of P r o p r i e t y. Fart I,
we never feel the leaft propenfity towards it •, and if there is none, we give way to it without any re- luctance. On the contrary, as we are always a- fhamed of our own envy, we often pretend, and fometimes really wifh to fympathize with the joy of others, when by that difagreeable fentiment we are difqualified from doing fo. We are glad, we fay, on account of our neighbour's good fortune, when in our hearts, perhaps, we are really forry. We often feel a fympathy with forrow when we wifh to be rid of it j and we often mifs that with joy when we would be glad to have it. The obvious obferva- tion, therefore, which it naturally fails in our way to make, is that our propenfity to fympathize with ibrrow mult be very ftrong, and our inclination to fympathize with joy very weak.
Notwithftanding this prejudice, however, I will venture to affirm, that, when there is no envy in the cafe, our propenfity to fympathize with joy is much ftronger than our propenfity to fympathize with for- row j and that our fellow-feeling for the agreeable emotion approaches much more nearly to the viva- city of what is naturally felt by the perfons princi- pally concerned, than that which we conceive for the: painful one.
We have fome indulgence for that exceflive grief which we cannot entirely go along with. We know what a prodigious effort is requifite before the fufferer can bring down his emotions to compleat harmony and concord with thofe of the fpectator. Though he fails, therefore, we eafily pardon him. But we have no fuch indulgence for the intemperance of •oy ; becaufe we are not confcious that any fuch vafl
effort
Sect. 3. O/Propriety, 67
effort is requifite to bring it down to what we can entirely enter into. The man who, under the greateft calamities, can command his forrow, feems worthy of the higheft admiration ; but he who, in the fulnefs of profperity, can in the fame manner mailer, his joy, feems hardly to deferve any praife. We are fenfible that there is a much wider interval in the one cafe than in the other, between what is naturally felt by the perfon principally concerned, and what the fpedlator can entirely go along with.
What can be added to the happinefs of the man who is in health, who is out of debt, and has a clear confcience r To one in this fituation, all acceifions of fortune may properly be laid to be fuperfluous ; and if he is much elevated udou account of them, it muft be the effect of the molt frivolous levity. This fituation, however, may very well be called the natural and ordinary Hate of mankind. Not- withftanding the prefent mifery and depravity of the world, fo juflly lamented, this really is the flate of the greater part of men. The greater part of men., therefore, cannot find any great difficulty in ele- vating themfeives to ail the joy which any accef- fion to this fituation can well excite in their com- panion.
But though little can be added to this -flate, much maybe taken from it. Though between this condi- tion and the highetf pitch of human profperity, the interval is but a trifle; between it and the lowed depth of mifery the diflance is immenfeand prodigious. Adverfity, on this account, necerfarily depreffes the mind of the fafferer much more below its natural ftate, Mri profperity can elevate him above it, The fpectatcr, therefore, muft - fi ncl it much more difficult to fympathize entirely, and keep perfect F a time-,
68 Of P r o p r i e t V. Part 1.
tifne, with his forrow, than thoroughly to enter in- to his joy, and muft depart much further from his own natural and ordinary temper of mind in the one cafe than in the other. It is on this account, that, though our fympathy with forrow is often a more pungent fenfation than our fympathy with joy, it al- ways falls much more ihort of the violence of what is naturally felt by the perfon principally concerned.
It is agreeable to fympathize with joy ; and wherever envy does not oppofe it, our heart aban- dons itfeif with fatisfa&ion to the highefl tranfports of that delightful fentiment. But it is painful to go along with grief, and we always enter into it with reluctance*. When we attend to the repre- fentation of a tragedy, we flruggle againft that fym- pathetic forrow which the entertainment inspires as long as we can, and we give way to it at lafl only when we can no longer avoid it : we even then en- deavour to cover our concern from the company. If we fhed any tears, we carefully conceal them, and are afraid left: the fpeclators, not entering into
this
* It has been objected to me that as T founcl the fentiment of approbation, which is always agreeable, upon fympathy, it is in- confiftent with my fyflem to admit any difagreeable fympathy. I anfwer, that in the fentiment of approbation there are two things to be taken notice of; firft the fympathetic paflion of the fpectator ; and, fecondly, the emotion which arifes from his obferving the per- fect coincidence between this fympathetic paffion in himfelf, and the original paflion in the perfon principally concerned. This lafl: emo- tion, in which the fentiment of approbation properly confilts, is al- ways agreeable and delightful. The other may either be agreeable or difagrcc.tble, according to the nature of the original paflion, whofe feature it mud always, in fome meafure, retain. Two founds* I (uppofe, may, each of them, taken firigly, be auftere, and yet, if :!,/ v ire'perfe5l concords, the perception of their harmony and coia- ~e may be agreeable.
Sect. 3. Of P R O P R I E T Y. 69
this exceflive tendernefs, mould regard it as effemi- nacy and weaknefs. The wretch whofe misfortunes call upon our compallion feels with what reluctance we are likely to enter into his forrow, and therefore propofes his grief to us with fear and hefitation : he even fmothers the half of it, and is amamed, upon account of this hard-hearted nefs of mankind, to give vent to the fulnefs of his affliction. ' It is o- therwife with the man who riots in joy and fuccefs. Wherever envy does not intereft us againfthim, he expects our compleatefl fympathy. He does not fear, therefore, to announce himfelf with fhouts of exul- tation, in full confidence that we are heartily dif- pofed to go along with him.
Why mould we be more amamed to weep than to laugh before company ? We may often have as real occafion to do the one as to do the other ■ But we al- ways feel that the fpectators are more likely to go along with us in the agreeable, than in the painful emotion. It is always miferable to complain, even when we are oppreffedbythe mofl dreadful calamities. But the triumph of victory is not always ungraceful. Prudence, indeed, would often advife us to bear pro- fperity with more moderation -, becaufe prudence would teach us to avoid that envy which this very triumph is, more than any thing, apt to excite.
How hearty are the acclamations of the mob, who never bear any envy to their fuperiors, at a triumph or a public entry ? And how fedate and mo- derate is commonly their grief at an execution ? Our forrow at a funeral generally amounts to no more than affected gravity; but our mirth at a chriilening or a marriage, is always from the heart, and without any affectation. Uponthefe, and all fuch joyous occafions, our fatisfaction, though not fo
F 3 durable.
^o O/Propriety. Part I.
durable, is often as lively as that of the perfons principally concerned. Whenever we cordially con- gratulate our friends, which, however, to the dip- grace of human nature, we do but feldom, their joy literally becomes our joy; we are for the moment, as happy as they are : our heart fwells and over- flows with real pleafare : joy and complacency fparkle from our eyes, and animate every fea- ture of our countenance, and every gefture of our body.
But, on the contrary, when we condole with our friends in their afflictions, how little do we feel, in comparifon of what they feel ? We fit down by them, we look at them, and while they relate to us the circumftances of their misfortune, we liften to them with gravity and attention. But while their narration is every moment interrupted by thofe na- tural burfls of paflion which often feem almofl to choak them in the midft of it - how far are the lan- guid emotions of our hearts from keeping time to the tranfports of theirs ?- We may be fenfible, at the fame time, that their paflion is natural, and no greater than what we .ourfelves might feel upon the like occafion. We may even inwardly reproach our- felves with our own want of fcnfibility, and per- haps on that account, work ourfelves up into an ar- tificial fympathy, which, however, when it is raifed, is always the flightexl and moil tranfirory imagin- able i and generally, as foon as we have left the room, vaniihes, and is gone for ever. Nature, it feerns, when flie has loaded us with our own far- rows, thought that they were enough, and there- fore did not command us to take any further (hare in thofe of others, than what was necefiavy to prompt us to relieve them.
It
Sect. 3. O/Propriety. 71
It is on account of this dull fenfibility to the af- flictions of others, that magnanimity amidfl great diftrefs appears always fo divinely graceful. His behaviour is genteel and agreeable who can maintain his chearfulnefs amidfl a number of frivolous dif- aflers. . But he appears to be more than mortal who can fupport in the fame manner the mod dreadful calamities. We feel what an immenfe effort is re- quifite to filence thofe violent emotions which natu- rally agitate and diffract thofe in his fituation. We are amazed to rind that he can command him- felf fo intirely. His firmnefs, at the fame time, perfectly coincides with our infenfibility. He makes no demand upon us for that more exquifite de- gree of fenfibility which we find, and which we are mortified to find, that we do not poifefs. There is the mofl perfect correfpondence between his fen- timents and ours, and on that account the mofl per- fect propriety in his behaviour. It is a propriety too, which, from our experience of the ufual weak- nefs of human nature, we could not reafonably have expected he mould be able to maintain. We won- der with furprife and aflonifhment at that flrength of mind which is capable of fo noble and generous an effort. The fentiment of compleat fympathy and approbation, mixed and animated with won- der and furprife, conflitutes what is properly called admiration, as has already been more than once taken notice of. Cato, furrounded on all fides by his enemies, unable to refill them, and difdainingto fubmit to them, and reduced by the proud maxims of that age, to the neceflity of deflroying him- felf ; yet never fhrinking from his misfortunes, ne- ver fupplicating with the lamentable voice of wretch- ednefs, thofe miferable fympathetic tears which we are always fo unwilling to give ; but en the contrary,
F 4 arming
1% 0/ Propriety. Part I.
arming himfelf with manly fortitude, and the mo- ment before he executes his fatal refolution, giving, with his ufual tranquillity, all neceffary orders for the fafety of his friends ; appears to Seneca, that great preacher of infenfibility, a fpeclacle which even the gods themfelves might behold with pleafure and admiration.
Whenever we meet, in common life, with any examples of fuch heroic magnanimity, we are al- ways extremely affe&ed. We are more apt to weep and Hied tears for fuch as, , in this manner, feem to feel nothing for themfelves, than for thofe who give way to all the weaknefs of forrow : and in this particular cafe, the fympathetic grief of the fpedta- tor appears to go beyond the original pafilon in the perfon principally concerned. The friends of So- crates all wept when he drank the laft potion, while he himfelf expreffed the gay ell: and moil chearful tranquillity. Upon ail fuch occafions the fpeclator makes no effort, and has no occafion to make any, in order to conquer his fympathetic forrow. He is under no fear that it will tranfport him to any thing that is extravagant and improper ^ he is rather pleafed with the fenfibility of his own heart, and gives way. to it wit;h complacence and felf-approbation. He gladly indulges, therefore, the moll melancholy views which can naturally occur to him, concerning the calamity of his friend, for whom, perhaps, he never felt fo exquifitely before, the tender and tearful pafTion of love. But it is quite, otherwife with the perfon principally concerned. He is obliged as much as poflible, to turn away his eyes from whatever is either naturally terrible or dlfasrreeable in his fltna- tipn. Too ferious an attention to thofe circum- (tances, he fears, might make fo violent an im-
preiiion,
Seft. 3. O/Propriety. 73
preflion upon him, that he could no longer keep within the bounds of moderation, or render him- felf the object of the complete fympathy and ap- probation of the fpedtators. He fixes his thoughts,, therefore, upon thofe only which are agreeable; the applaufe and admiration which he is about to deferve by the heroic magnanimity of his behaviour. To feel that he is capable of fo noble and generous an effort, to feel that in this dreadful fituation he can Hill act. as he would defire to act, animates and tranf- portshim with joy, and enables him to fupport that triumphant gaiety which feems to exult in the vic- tory he thus gains over his misfortunes.
On the contrary, he always appears, in fome meafure, mean and defpicable, who is funk in forrow and dejection upon account of any calamity of his own. We cannot bring ourfelves to feel for him what he feels for himfelf, and what, perhaps, we mould feel for ourfelves if in his fituation : we, therefore, defpife him ; unjuftly, perhaps, if any fentiment could be regarded as unjuit, to which we are by nature irrefiitibly determined. The weak- nefs of forrow never appears in any refpedt agree- able, except when it arifes from what we feel for others more than from what we feel for ourfelves. A fon, upon the death of an indulgent and refpectable father, may give way to it without much blame. His forrow is chiefly founded upon a fort of fympathy with his departed parent • and we readily enter into this humane emotion. But if he mould indulge the fame weaknefs upon account cf any misfortune which affected himfelf only, he would no longer meet with any fuch indulgence. If he mould be reduced to beggary and ruin, if he
mould
74. O/Propriety. ■ Part I.
ftiould be expofed to the moil dreadful dangers, if he mould even be led out to a public execution, ^ and there fried one fmgle tear upon the fcarlold, he would difgrace himfelf for ever in the opinion of all the gallant and generous part of mankind. Their compailion for him, however, would be very ilrong, and very fincere ; but as it would ft ill fall fhort of this exceflive weaknefs, they would have no pardon for the man who could thus expofe himfelf in the £yes of the world. His behaviour would affecl: them with fhame rather than with forrow; andthedif- honour which he had thus brought upon himfelf would appear to them the moil lamentable circum- ilance in his misfortune. How did it dilgrace the memory of the intrepid Duke of Biron, who had fo often braved death in the field, that he wept upon the fcaffoid, when he beheld the ilate to which he was fallen, and remembered the favour and the glory from which his own ralhnefs had fo unfor- tunately thrown him !
CHAP. If.
Of the origin of ambition, and of the diftinRion of
ranks.
.1 T is becaafe mankind are difpofed to fympa- thize more entirely with our joy than with our for- row, that we mafe parade of our riches, and con- ceal our poverty. Nothing is fo mortifying as to
be
Sed. 3- 0/ Propriety. 75
be obliged to expofe our diftrefs to the view of the public, and to feel, that though our fituation is open to the eyes of all mankind, no mortal con- ceives for us the half of what we fufFer. Nay, it is chiefly from this regard to the fentiments o£ mankind, that we purfue riches and avoid poverty. For to what purpofe is all the toil and buftle of this world ? what is the end of avarice and arnbi^ tion, of the purfuit of wealth, of power, and pre- eminence? Is it to fupply the neceflities of na- ture ? The wages of the meaner! labourer can fupply them. We fee that they afford him food and cloathing, the comfort of a houfe, and of a fa^ mily. If we examine his ceconomy with rigor, we mould find that he fpends a great part of them upon conveniences, which may be regarded as fuperflui- ties, and that, upon extraordinary occafions, he can give fomething even to vanity and dillincYion, What then is the caufe of our averfion to his fitua* tion, and why mould' thofe who have been educated in the higher ranks of life, regard it as worfe than death, to be reduced to live, even without labour, upon the fame fimple fare with him, to dwell un- der the fame lowly roof, and to be cloathed in the fame humble attire? Do they imagine that their ftomach is better, or their fleep founder in a palace than in a cottage ? the contrary has been 10 often obferved, and, indeed, is fo very obvious, though it had never been obferved, that there is no body ig- norant of it. From whence, then, strifes that e- mulation which runs through all the different ranks of men, and what are the advantages which we propofe by that great purpofe of human life which we call bettering our condition ? 1o be obferved,
to
j6 O/Fropriety. Fart I.
to be attended to, to be taken notice of with fym- pathy, complacency, and approbation, are all the advantages which we can propofe to derive from it. It is the vanity, not the eafe, or the pleafure, which interefls us. But vanity is always founded upon the belief of our being the object of atten- tion and approbation. The rich man glories in his riches, becaufe he feels that they naturally draw upon him the attention of the world, .and that mankind are diipofed to go along with him in all thofe agreeable emotions with which the advan- tages of his fituation i@ readily inipire him. At the thought of this, his heart feems to fwell and dilate itfelf within him, and he is fonder of his wealth upon this account, than for all the ether advantages it procures him. The poor man, on the contrary, is afhamed of his poverty. He feels that it either places him out of the fight of mankind, or, that, if they take any notice of him, they have, however, fcarce any fellow-feeling with the mifery and diftrefs which he fuffers. He is mortified upon both accounts ; for though to be overlooked, and to be difapproved of, are things entirely different, yet as obfeurity covers us from the daylight of honour and approbation, to feel that we are taken no notice of neceifarily damps the raoft agreeable hope, and difappoints the moil ardent defire, of human nature. The poor man goes out and comes in unheeded, and when in the midft of a croud is in the fame obfeurity as if (hut up in his own hovel. Thofe humble cares and painful attentions which occupy thojfe in his fitua- tion, afford no amufement to the diiTipated and the gay. They turn, away their eyes from him, or tf the extremity cfn's diftrefs forces them to look
at
Sect. 3. 0/pROPRiETY, 77
at him, it is only to fpurn fo difagreeable an object from among, them. The Fortunate and the proud wonder at the infolence of human wretched nefs, that it -mould dare to prefent itfelf before them, and with the loathfome afpect of its mifery, pre- fume to diflurb the ferenity of their happinefs. The man of rank and distinction, on the contrary, is obierved by all the world. Every body is eager to look at him, and to conceive, at leaft by fyrrt- pathy, that joy and exultation with which his circumilances naturally infpire him. His actions are the objects of the public care. Scarce a word fcarce a gefture, can fall from him that is altoo-e- ther neglected. In a great alfembly he is the perfon upon whom all direct their eyes; it is upon him that their paflions feem all to wait with expectation in order to receive that movement and direction which he mall imprefs upon them ; and if his behaviour is not altogether abfurd, he has, eve- ry moment, an opportunity of interefting man- kind, and of rendering himfelf the objett of the obfervation and fellow-feeling of every body about him. It is this, which notwithstanding the reftraint it impofes, notwithftanding the lofs of li- berty with which it is attended, renders greatnefs the object of envy, and compenfates in -the opi- nion of mankind, all that toil, all that anxiety, all thofe mortifications which muft be undergone in the purfuit of it 5 and what is of yet more con- fequence, all that leifare, ail that eafe, all that careiefs fecurity, which are forfeited for ever by the acquifition.
When we confider the condition of the great, in thofe delufive colours in which the imagination is apt to paint it, it feems to be almofl the ab-
ilract
^8 0/ Propriety. Part I.
ftrad idea of a perfect and happy Hate. It is the very ftate which, in all our waking dreams and idle reveries, we had iketched out to ourfelves as the final object of all our defires. We feel, there- fore, a peculiar fympathy with the fatisfa&ion of thofe who are in it. We favour all their incli- nations, and forward all their wifhes. What pity, we think, that any thing mould fpoil and corrupt fo agreeable a fituation ! We could even wifh them immortal ; and it feems hard to us, that death mould at laft put an end to fuch per- fect enjoyment. It is cruel, we think, in Na- ture, to compel them from their exalted ftations to that humble, but hofpitable home, which me has provided for all her children. Great King, live for ever ! is the compliment, which after the manner of eaftern adulation, we mould readily make them, if experience did not teach us its abfurdity. Every calamity that befals them, every injury that is done them, excites in the breaft of the fpectator ten times more companion and re- fentment than he would have felt, had the fame things happened to other men. It is the misfor- tunes of Kings only which afford the proper fub- jects for tragedy. They referable, in this re^ fpect, the misfortunes of lovers. Thofe two iitua- tions are the chief which intereft us upon the theatre ; becaufe, in fpite of all that reafon and experience can tell us to the contrary, the pre- judices of .the imagination attach to thefe two l ftates a happinefs fuperior to any other. To dif- turb, or to put an end to fuch perfect enjoy- ment, feems to be the moil atrocious of all in- juries. The traitor who confpires againit. the life of his monarch, is thought a greater monfter than
any
Sect. 3. 0/ Propriety. 79
any other murderer. All the innocent blood that was fried in the civil wars, provoked lefs indig- nation than the death of Charles I. A itranger to human nature, who faw the indifference of men about the mifery of their inferiors, and the regret and indignation which they feel for the misfortunes and fufTerings of thoie above them, would be apt to imagine, that pain muft be more agonizing, and the convulfions of death more ter- rible to perfons of higher rank, than to thofe of meaner Nations. '
Upon this difpofition of mankind, to go along with all the pailions of the rich and the powerful, is founded the diftinction of ranks, and the order of fociety. Our obfequioufnefs to our fuperiors more frequently arifes from our admiration for the advantages of their fituation, than from any private expectations of benefit from their good- will. Their benefits can extend but to a 'few ; but their fortunes intereft almoft every body. We are eager to allift them in compleating. a fyftem of happinefs that approaches fo near to perfec- tion ; and we defire to ferve them- for their own fake, without any other recompenfe but the va- nity or the honour of obliging them. Neither is our deference to their inclinations founded chiefly, or altogether, upon a regard to the utility of fuch fubmiilion, and to the order of fociety, which is bell fupported by it. Even when the order of fo- ciety feems to require that we mould cppofe them, we can hardly bring ourfelves to do it. That kings are the fervants of the people, to be obeyed, re- filled, depofed, or pumfhed, as the public con- veniency may require, is the dcchLe of -afon and philofophy- but it is not the 2 cf
N :ure.
So 0/ PkopRiETf. Part t.
Nature." Nature would teach, us to fubmit to them, for their own fake, to tremble and bow down before their exalted ftation, to regard their fmile as a reward fufficient to compenfate any fervices, and to dread their difpleafure, though no other evil was to follow from it, as the fe- verelt of all mortifications. To treat them in any refpedt as men, to reafon and difpute with them upon ordinary occafions, requires fuc'h re- folution, that there are few men whofe magna- nimity can fupport them in it, unlefs they are likewife aflilted by familiarity and acquaintance. The Itrongelt motives, the molt furious . paflions, fear, hatred, and refentment, are fcarce fufficient to balance this natural difpofition to refpedt them : and their conduct mult, either jultly or unjuitly, have excited the higheft degree of all thofe paf- lions, before the bulk of the people can be brought to oppofe them With violence, or to defire to fee them either punifhed or depofed. Even when the people have been brought this length, they are apt to relent every moment, and eafiiy re- lapfe into their habitual Itate of deference to thofe whom they have been acciiltomed to look upon as their natural fuperiors. They cannot Hand the mortification of their monarch. Companion foon takes the place of refentment, they forget all paft provocations, their old principles of loyalty re- vive, and they run to re-eitablifh the ruined au- thoritv of -their old mailer, with the fame vio- lence with which they had oppofed it. The death of Charles I. brought about the -Reiteration of the royal family. Companion for James II. when he was feized by thev populace in making his efcape on (hip-board* had slmolt prevented the Re- volution.
Seel. 3. Of Propriety. 81
volution, and made it go on more heavily than before.
Do the great feem infenfible of the eafy price at which they may acquire the public admiraj tion ; or do they feem to imagine that to them, as to other men, it muft be the purchafe either of fweat or of blood? By what important accom- pliihments is the young nobleman inftrudted to fupport the dignity of his rank, and to render himfelf worthy of that fuperiority over his fellow- citizens, to which the virtue of his anceftors had raifed them? Is it by knowledge, by induftry, by patience, by felf-denial, or by virtue of any kind ? As all his words, as all his motions are attended to, he learns an habitual regard to every circumftance of ordinary behaviour, and fludies to perform al) thofe fmall duties with the raoft ex- act propriety. As he is confeious how much he is obferved, and how much mankind are difpofed to favour all his inclinations, he acts, upon the mod indifferent occafions, with that freedom and elevation which the thought of this naturally infpires. His air, his manner, his deportment, all mark that elegant and graceful fenfe of his own fuperiority, Which thofe who are born to inferior ftations can hardly ever arrive at : thefe are the arts by which he propofes to make mankind more eafily fubmit to his authority, and to govern their inclinations according to his own pleafure : and in this he is feldom difappointed. Thefe arts, fupported by rank and pre-eminence, are, upon ordinary occafions, furncient to govern the world. Lewis XIV. during the greater part of his reign, was regarded, not only in France? but over all G Europe,
82 0/ Propriety. Parti.
Europe, as the moil perfect model of a great prince. But what were the talents and virtues by which he acquired this great reputation ? Was it by the fqrupulous and inflexible juftice^ of all his undertakings, by the immenfe dangers and dif- ficulties with which they were attended, or by the unwearied and unrelenting application with which he purfued them ? Was it by his extenfive knowledge, by his exquifite judgment, or by his lieroic valour? It was by none of thefe -qualities. But he was, firfl of all, the moll powerful prince in Europe, and confequently held the higheft rank among kings ; and then, fays his hiftorian, u he " furpaiTed all his courtiers in the gracefulnefs of " his ihape, and the majeftic beauty of his features. V The found of his voice, noble and arTedling, " gained thofe hearts which his prefence intimi- " dated. He had a ftep and deportment which " could fuit only him and his rank, and which " would have been ridiculous in any other per- " fon. The embarraflment which he occafioned " to thofe who fpoke to him, flattered that fecret " fatisfa&ion with which be felt his own fuperi- " ority. The old officer, who was confounded " and faultered in afking him a favour, and not " being able to conclude his difcourfe, faidtchim, <c Sir, your majefty, I hope, will believe that I " do not tremble thus before your enemies : had " no difficulty to obtain what he demanded.'* Thefe frivolous accomplifnments, fupported by his rank, and, no doubt, too, by a degree of other talents and virtues, which feems, however, not to have been much above mediocrity, eftablifhed this prince in the efleem of his own age, and have drawn? even from pofterity, a good deal of
refpeft
Sed. 3. O/Propriety, 83
refpecl: for his memory. Compared with thofe of his own times, and in his own prefence, no other virtue, it feems, appeared to have any me- rit. Knowledge, induftry, valour, and beneficence, trembled, were abafhed, and loft all dignity be- fore them.
But it is not by accomplishments of this kind, that the man of inferior rank mud hope to di- flinguifh himfelf. Politenefs is fo much the virtue of the great, that it will do little honour to any body but themfelves. The coxcomb, who imi- tates their manner, and affects to be eminent by the fuperior propriety of his ordinary behaviour, is rewarded with a double fhare of contempt for his folly and prefumption. Why mould the man, whom nobody thinks it worth while to look at, be very anxious about the manner in which he holds up his head, or difpofes of his arms while he walks through a room ? He is occupied furely with a very Super- fluous attention, and with an attention too that marks a fenfe of his own importance, which no other mortal can go along with. The moft per- fect modefly and plainnefs, joined to as much ne- gligence as is confident with the refpect due to the company, ought to be the chief charadterif- tics of the behaviour of a private man. If ever he hopes to diftinguifh himfelf, it muft be by more important virtues. He muft acquire de- pendants to balance the dependants of the great, and he has no other fund to pay them from, but the labour of his body, and the activity of his mind. He muft cultivate thefe therefore : he muft acquire fuperior knowledge in his profeflion, and fuperior induftry in the exercife of it. He G 2 muft
84 Qf Propriety,' Part I.
muft be patient in labour, refolute in danger, and firm in diftrefs. Thefe talents he muft bring into- public view, by the difficulty, importance, and, at the fame time, good judgment of his undertakings, and by the fevere and unrelenting application with which he purfues them. Probity and pru- dence, generofity and franknefs, muft characte- rize his behaviour upon all ordinary occafions ; and he muft, at the fame time, be forward to engage in all thofe fituations in which it requires the greateft talents and virtues to act with pro- priety, but in which the greateft applaufe is to be acquired by thofe who can acquit themfelves with honour. With what impatience does the man of fpirit and ambition, who is deprelfed by his fituation, look round for fome great oppor- tunity to diftinguifh himfelf? No circumftances, which can afford this, appear to him undefirable. He even looks forward with fatisfaclion to the profpect of foreign war, or civil diffenfion • and, with feeret tranfport and delight, fees through all the confufion and bloodfhed which attend them, the probability of thofe wifhed for occafions prefent- ing themfelves, in which he may draw upon him- felf the attention and admiration of mankind. The man of rank and diftinction, on the contrary, whofe whole glory confifts in the propriety of his ordinary behaviour, who is contented with the humble renown which this can afford him, and has no talents to acquire any other, is unwilling to embarrafs himfelf with what can be attended either with difficulty or diftrefs. To figure at a ball is his great triumph, and to fucceed in an intrigue of ^gallantry, his higheft exploit. He has an averfion to all public confufions, not from
the
Sect. 3. Of P R O P R I E T y. 85
the love of mankind, for the great never look upon their inferiors as their fellow-creatures ; nor yet from want of courage, for in that he is fel- dom defective ; but from a confcioumefs that he porTefles none of the virtues which are required in fuch fituations, and that the public attention will certainly be drawn away from him by others. He may be willing to expofe himfelf to fome little danger, and to make a campaign when it happens to be the fafhion. But he fh udders with horror at the thought of any fituation which de- mands the continual and long exertion of patience, induftry, fortitude, and application of thought. Thefe virtues are hardly ever to be met with in men who are born to thofe high ftations. In all go- vernments accordingly, even in monarchies, the 'higher! offices are generally pofTeifed, and the whole detail of the adminiltration conducted by men who were educated in the middle and inferior ranks of life, who have been carried forward by their own jndurtry and abilities, though loaded with the jealoufy, and oppofed by the refentment of all thofe who were born their fuperiors, and to whom the great, after having regarded them firfh with con- tempt, and afterwards with envy, are at laft con- tented to truckle with the fame abject meannefs with which they defire that the reft of mankind mould behaye to themfelves.
It is the lofs of this eafy empire over the af - feet ions of mankind which renders the fall from greatnefs fo infupportable. When the family of the King of Macedon was led in triumph by Paulus jEmilius, their misfortunes, it is faid, made them divide with their conqueror the attention
G 3 of
26 Of Propriety. Parti.
of the Romon people. The fight of the royal children, whofe tender age rendered them infen- fible of their fituation, ftruck the fpettators, a- midft the public rejoicings and profperity, with the tendered forrow and companion. The King appeared next in the procefTion - and feemed like one confounded and aftonifhed, and bereft of all fentiment, by the greatnefs of his calamities. His friends and minifters followed after him. As they moved along, they often call: their eye upon their fallen fovereign, and always bur It into tears at the fight ; their whole behaviour demonflrating that they thought not of their misfortunes, but were occupied entirely by the fuperior greatnefs of his. The generous Romans, on the contrary, beheld him with difdain and indignation, and legarded as unworthy of all companion the man who could be fo mean-fpirited as to bear to live under fuch calamities. Yet what did thofe calamities amount to ? According to the greater part of hiftorians, he was to fpend the remainder of his days un- der the protection of a powerful and humane people, in a itate which in itfelf fhould feem worthy of envy, a flate of plenty, eafe, leifure, and fecurity, from which it was impoflible for him even by his own folly to fall. But he was no longer to be furrounded by that admiring mob of fools, flatterers, and dependants, who had for- merly been accuflomed to attend upon all his motions. He was no longer to be gazed upon by multitudes, nor to have it in his power to render himfelf the object of their refpect, their gratitude, their love, their admiration. The paf- fions of nations vwere no longer to mould them-
felves
Sett. 3. 0/ Propriety, 87
felves upon his inclinations. This was that infup- portable calamity which bereaved the King of all fentiment ; which made his friends forget their own misfortunes ; and which the Roman magnanimity could fcarce conceive how any man could be fo mean-fpirited as to bear to furvive.
" Love, fays my Lord Rochfoucault, is com- *4 monly fucceeded by ambition • but ambition " is hardly ever fucceeded by love." That paf- fion when once it has got entire pofTeflion of the breail, will admit neither a rival nor a fuc- ceflbr. To thofe wIiq have been accuftomed to the poffeifion, or even to the hope of public ad- miration, all other pleafures ficken and decay. Of all the difcarded ftatefmen who for their own eafe have fludied to get the better of ambition, and to defpife thofe honours which they couhi no longer arrive at, how few have been able to fuc- ceed ? The greater part have fpent their time in the moll lifllefs and infipid indolence, chagrined at the thoughts of their own infignificancy, in- capable of being interefled in the occupations of private life, without enjoyment except when they talked of their former greatnefs, and with- out fatisfadtion except when they were employed in fome vain project to recover it. Are you in earneft refolved never to barter your liberty for the lordly fervitude of a Court, but to live free, fearlefs, and independent ? There feems to be one way to continue in that virtuous refolution ; and perhaps but one. Never enter the place from whence fo few have been able to return j never come within the circle of ambition ; nor even bring yourfelf into comparifon with thofe mailers of the
G 4 earth
88 0/ Propriety. Part I.
earth who have already engroiTed the attention of half mankind before you.
Of fuch mighty importance does it appear to be, in the imaginations of men, to fland in that fituation which fets them moft in the view of general fympa- thy and attention. And thus, place, that great ob- ject which divides the wives of aldermen, is the end of half the labours of life • and is the caufe of all the tumult and buttle, all the rapine and injuftice, which avarice and ambition have introduced into this world. People of fenfe, it is faid, indeed defpife place •, that is, they defpife fitting at the head of the table, and are indifferent who it is that is pointed out to the company by that frivolous circumflance, which the fmalleft advantage is capable of overbalancing. But rank, diflindtion, pre-eminence, no man defpifes, unlefs he is either raifed very much above, or funk very much below, the ordinary itandard of human nature; unlefs he is either fo confirmed in wifdom and real philofophy, as to be fatished that, while the propriety of his conduft renders him the juft object of approbation, it is of little confequence though he be neither attended to, nor approved of; or fo habi- tuated to the idea of his own rheannefs, fo funk in flothful and fottifh indifference, as entirely to have forgot the defire, and almoft the very wifh, for fu- periority.
CHAP.
Sed. 3. Of Propriety, 89
CHAP. III.
Of the fiolcal philofophy.
w,
HEN we examine in this manner into the ground of the different degrees of eftimation which mankind are apt to beftow upon the different con- ditions of life, we (hall find, that the exceflive pre- ference, which they generally give to fome of them above others, is in a great meafure without any foundation. If to be able to act with propriety, and to render ourfelves the proper objects of the ap- probation of mankind, be, as we have been endea- vouring to mow, what chiefly recommends to us one condition above another, this may equally be attained in them all. The noblelt propriety of con- duel: may be fupported in adverfity, as well as in profperity ; and though it is fomewhat more difficult in the firft, it is upon that very account more ad- mirable. Perils and misfortunes are not only the proper fchool of heroifm, they are the only proper theatre which can exhibit its virtue to advantage, and draw upon it the full applaufe of the world. The man, whofe whole life has been one even and uninterrupted courfe of profperity, who never braved any danger, who never encountered any difficulty, who never furmounted any diftrefs, can excite but an inferior degree of admiration. When poets and romance-writers endeavour to invent a train of ad- ventures, which fhall give the greater!: luflre to thofe
characters
90 0/ P r o p r i e t y. Part L
characters for whom they mean to interefl us, they are all of a different kind. They are rapid and fud- den changes of fortune, fituations the moil: apt to drive thofe who are in them to frenzy and diftraction, or to abject defpair ; but in which their heroes act with fo much propriety, or at leaft with fo much ipirit and undaunted refolution, as ftill to command our efleem. Is not the unfortunate magnanimity of £ato, Brutus, and Leonidas, as much the object of admiration, as that of the fuccefsful Caefar or Alex- ander ? To a generous mind, therefore, ought it not to be as much the object of envy ? If a more daz- zling fplendor feems to attend the fortunes of fuc- cefsful conquerors, it is becaufe they join together the advantages of both fituations, the luflre of prof- perity to the high admiration which is excited by dangers encountered, and difficulties furmounted, with intrepidity and valour.
It was upon this account that, according to the iloical philofophy, to a wife man all the different conditions of life were equal. Nature, they laid, had recommended fome objects to our choice, and others to our difapprobation. Our primary appe^ tites directed us to the purfuit of health, ftrength, eafe, and perfection, in all the qualities of mind and body; and of whatever could promote or fecure thefe, riches, power, authority : and the fame ori- ginal principle taught us to avoid the contrary. But in chufing or rejecting, in preferring or poftponing, thofe firft objects of original appetite and averfion, Nature had likewife taught us, that there was a cer- tain order, propriety, and grace, to be obferved, of infinitely greater confequence to happinefs and per- fection,
Se&. 3. O/Propriety. 91
fection, than the attainment of thofe objects them- felves. The objects of our primary appetites or aversions were to be purfued or avoided, chiefly becaufe a regard to this grace and propriety requir- ed fuch conduct. In directing all our actions ac- cording to thefe, confided the happinefs and glory of human nature. In departing from thofe rules which they prefcribed to us, its greater! wretched- nefs and moft complete depravity. The outward appearance of this order and propriety was indeed more eafily maintained in fome circumftances than in others. To a fool, however, to one whofe paf- fions were fubjected to no proper controul, to act with real grace and propriety, was equally impof- fible in every fituation. Though the giddy multi- tude might admire him, though his vanity might fometimes be elevated by their ignorant praifes into fomething that refembled felf-approbation, yet flill when he turned his view to what palled within his own breaft, he was fecretly confcious to himfelf of the abfurdity and meannefs of all his motives, and inv/ardly blufhed and trembled at the thoughts of the contempt which he knew he defer ved, and which mankind would certainly bellow upon him if they faw his conduct in the light in which in his own heart he was obliged to regard it. To a wife man, on the contrary, to one whofe pafTions were all brought under perfect fubjection to the ruling principles of his nature, to reafon and the love of propriety, to act fo as to deferve approbation was equally eafy upon all occafions. Was he in profpe- rity, he returned thanks to Jupiter for having join- ed him with circumftances which were eafily maf- tered, and in which there was little temptation to do wrong. Was he in adverfity, he equally, re- turned
92 Of Propriety. Part I.
turned thanks to the director of this fpec- tacle of human life, for having oppofed to him a vigorous athlete, over whom, though the 'con tell: was likely to be more violent, the victory was more glorious, and equally certain. Can there be any fhame in that difLefs which is brought upon us with^ out any fault of cur own, and in which we behave with perfect propriety ? There can therefore, be no evil, but, on the contrary, the greateit good and ad- vantage. A brave man exults in thofe dangers, in which, from no rafhnei's of his own, his fortune has involved him. They afford an opportunity of ex- ercifing that heroic intrepidity, whole exertion gives the exalted delight which flows from the coniciouf- nefs of fuperior propriety and deferved admiration. One who is mailer of all his exercifes has no averfion to meafure his flrength and activity with the ftrong- eft. And in the fame manner, one who is mafter of all his pafTions, does not dread any circumfiances in which the fuperintendant of the univerfe may think proper to place him. The bounty of that Di-r vine Being has provided him with virtues which ren-^ der him fuperior to every fituation. If it is pleafure, he has temperance to refrain from it ; if it is pain, he has conflancy to bear it ; if it is danger or death, he has magnanimity and fortitude to defpife it. He never complains of the defliny of providence, nor thinks the univerfe in confufion when he is out of order. He does not look upon himfelf, according to what felf-love would fuggeft, as a whole, fepa- rated and detached from every other part of nature, to be taken care of by itfelf, and for itfelf. He re- gards himfelf in the light in which he imagines the great Genius of human nature, and of the world, regards him. rfe enters, if I may fay fo, into the
fentiments.
Sed. 3. O/Propriety, 93
fentiments of that Divine Being, and confiders him- felf as an atom, a particle, of an immenfe and infi- nite fyftem, which muft, and ought to be difpofed of, according to the conveniency of the whole. Af- fured of the wifdom which directs all the events of human life, whatever lot befalls him, he accepts it with joy, fatisfied that, if he had known all the con- nexions and dependencies of the different parts of the univerfe,.it is the very lot which he himfelf would have wilhed for. If it is life, he is contented to live : and if it is death, as Nature muft have no fur- ther occafion for his prefence here, he willingly goes where he is appointed. I accept, laid a floical phi- lolbpher, with equal joy and fa tisf action, whatever fortune can befal me. Riches or poverty, pleafure or pain, health or ficknefs, all is alike : nor would I defire that the gods mould in any refpect change my deflination. If I was to afk of them any thing, beyond what their bounty has already bellowed, it mould be that they would inform me beforehand what it was their pleafure mould be done with me, that I might of my own accord place myfelf in this fituation, and demonflrate the chearfulnefs with which I embraced their allotment. If I am going to fail, fays Epictetus, I chufe the bell fhip, and the befl pilot, and I wait for the faireit weather that my circumftances and duty will allow. Prudence and propriety, the principles which the gods have given me for the direction of my conduct, require this of me i but they require no more : and if, notwith- ftanding, a ftorm arifes, which neither the ftrength of the veflel, nor the fkill of the pilot are likely to withftand, I give myfelf no trouble about the con- fequence. All that I had to do, is done already. The directors of my conduct never command me
to
SAr O/Proprtety. Part I.
to be miferable, to be anxious, defponding, or afraid. Whether we are to be drowned, or to come to a harbour, is the bufinefs of Jupiter, not mine. I leave it entirely to his determination, nor ever break my reft with confidering which way he is likely to decide it, but receive whatever comes with equal indifference and fecurity.
Such was the philofophy of the ftoics ; a philpr- fophy which affords the nobleft leifons of magnani- mity, is the belt fchool of heroes and patriots, and to the greater part of whofe precepts there can be no objection, except that honourable one, that they teach us to aim at a perfection altogether beyond the reach of human nature. I fhall not at prefent ftop to examine it. I fhall only obferve, in confir- mation of what has formerly been faid, that the molt dreadful calamities are not always thofe which it is moll difficult to fupport. It is often more mor- tifying to appear in publick, under fmall difafters, than under great misfortunes. The firft excite no fympathy ; but the fecond, though they may excite none that approaches to the anguifh of the fufferer, callforth, however, a very lively companion. The fentiments of the fpe&ators are, in this laft cafe, therefore, lefs wide of thofe of the fufferer, and their imperfect fellow-feeling lends him fome afiifl- ancein Supporting his mifery. Before a gay aiTem- bly, a gentleman would be more mortified to ap- pear covered with filth and. rags than with blood and wounds. This laft fituation would intereft their pity ; the other would provoke their laughter. The judge who orders a criminal to be fet in the pillory, difhonours him: more than if he had con- demned him to the fcaffold. The great prince,
who?
Sect. 3. O/Propriety. 05
who, fome years ago, caned a general officer at the head of his army, difgraced him irrecoverably. The punifhment would have been much lefs had he fhot him through the body. By the laws of ho- nour, to flrike with a cane difhonours, to ftrike with a fword does not, for aft obvious reafon. Thofe flighter punifhments when inflicted on a gentleman, to whom dishonour is the greater!: of all evils, come to be regarded among a humane and generous peo- ple, as the moll dreadful of any. With regard to perfons of that rank, therefore, they are univerfally laid afide, and the law, while it takes their life up- on many occafions, refpecls their honour upon al- moft all. To fcourge a perfon of quality, or to fet him in the pillory, upon account of any crime whatever, is a brutality of which no European go- vernment, except that of Rullia, is capable.
A brave man is not rendered contemptible by be- ing brought to the fcaffbld; he is, by being fet in the pillory. His behaviour in the one fituation may gain him univerfal efteem and admiration. No be- haviour in the other can render him agreeable. The fympathy of the fpectators fupports him in the one cafe, and faves him from that fliame, that confciouf- nefs that his mifery is felt by himfelf only, which is of all fentiments the moil unfupportable. There is no fympathy in the other ; or, if there is any, it is not with his pain, which is a trifle, but with his con- icioufnefs of the want of fympathy with which this pain is attended. It is with his fhame, not with his forrow. Thofe who pity him, blufh and hang down their heads for him. He droops in the fame manner, and feels himfelf irrecoverably degraded by the punifhment, though not by the crime. The
man,
96 O/Propriety. Part L
man, on the contrary, who dies with resolution, as he is naturally regarded with the erect afpect of ef- teem and approbation, fo he wears himfelf the fame undaunted countenance ; and, if the crime does not deprive him of the refpect of others* the punifh- ment never will. He- has no fufpicion that his fili- ation is the object of contempt or derifion to any body, and he can, with propriety, affume the air, not only of perfect ferenity, but of triumph and exaltation.
" Great dangers, fays the Cardinal de Retz, have " their charms, becaufe there is fome glory to be " got, even when we mifcarry. But moderate dan- " gers have nothing but what is horrible, becaufe " the lofs of reputation always attends the want of " fuccefs." His maxim has the fame foundation with what we have been juft now obferving with re- gard to punifhments.
Human virtue is fuperior to pain, to poverty, to danger, and to death ; nor does it even require its utmoft efforts to defpife them. But to have its mi- fery expofed to infult and derifion, to be led in triumph, to be fet up for the hand of fcorn to point at, is a fituation in which its conftancy is much more apt to fail. Compared with the contempt of man- kind, all other evils are eafily fupported.
PART
PART II.
Of Merit and Demerit; of, of the Ob- jects of Reward and Punishment.
Consisting of three Sections.
SECTION I.
Of the fenfc of merit and demerit. INTRODUCTION,
A HERE is another fet of qualities afcribed to the actions and conduct of mankind, diftinct from their propriety or impropriety, their decency or un- gracefulnefs, and which are the objects of a diftinct fpecies of approbation and disapprobation. Thefe are merit and demerit, the qualities of deferving reward, and of deferving punifhment.
It has already been obferved, that the fentiment or affection of the heart, from which any action proceeds, and upon which its whole virtue or vice depends, may be confidered under two different af- pects, or in two different relations : firft, in rela- tion to the caufe or object which excites it ; and, fecondly, in relation to the end which it propofes,
H or
98 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
or to the effect which it tends to produce : that up- on the fuitablenefs or unfuitablenefs, upon the pro- portion or difproportion, which the affection feems to bear to the caufe or object which excites it, de- pends the propriety or impropriety, the decency or ungracefulnefs of the confequent action ; and that upon the beneficial or hurtful effects which the affec- tion propofes or tends to produce, depends the me- rit or demerit, the good or ill defert of the action to which it gives occafion. Wherein confifts our fenfe of the propriety or impropriety of actions, has been explained in the former part of this difcourfe. We come now to confider, wherein confifts that of their good or ill defert.
CHAP. I.
That whatever appears to be the proper objetl of gratitude^ appears to deferve reward; and that, in the fame man- ner', whatever appears to he the proper objeB of re- fentment, appears to deferve punijhment.
O us, therefore, that action mull appear to de- ferve reward, which appears to be the proper and approved object of that fentiment, which mofl im- mediately and directly prompts us to reward, or to do good to another. And in the fame manner, that action muft appear to deferve punifhment, which appears to be the proper and approved object of that fentiment which mofl: immediately and di- rectly prompts us to publifli, or inflict evil upon another. x
The
Sect. I. Of Merit W Demerit, gg
The fentiment which mofl immediately and di- rectly prompts us to reward, is gratitude; that which moft immediately and directly prompts us to punifli, is refentment.
To us, therefore, that action muft appear to de- ferve reward, which appears to be the proper and ap- proved object of gratitude ; as, on the other hand, that action mufl appear to deferve punifhment, which appears to be the proper and approved object of refentment.
To reward, is to recompenfe, to remunerate, to return good for good received. To punifh, too, is to recompenfe, to remunerate, though in a different manner ; it is to return evil for evil that has been done.
There are fome other pafTions, befides gratitude and refentment, which intereft us in the happinefs or mifery of others ; but there are none which fo di- rectly excite us to be the inftruments of either. The love and elteem which grow upon acquaintance and habitual -approbation, neceffarily lead us to be pleafed with the good fortune of the man who is the object of fuch agreeable emotions, and confequently, to be willing to lend a hand to promote it. Our love, however, is fully fatisfied, though his good fortune mould be brought about without our arTiflance. All that this paflion defires is to fee him happy, without regarding who was the author of his prosperity. But gratitude is not to be fatisfied in this manner. If the perfon to whom we owe many obligations, is made happy without our affiftance, though it pleafes Our love, it does not content our gratitude. Till we H 2 have
ioo Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
have recompenfed him, till we ourfelves have been inftrumental in promoting his happinefs, we feel our- felves flill loaded with that debt which his paft fer- vices have laid upon us.
The hatred and diflike, in the fame manner, which grow upon habitual difapprobation, would of- ten lead us to take a malicious pleafure m the misfor- tune of the man whofe conduct and character excite fo painful a paflion. But though diflike and hatred harden us againfl all fympathy, and fometimes dif- pofe us even to rejoice at the diftrefs of another, yet, if there is no refentment in the cafe, if neither we nor our friends have received any great perfonal pro- vocation, thefe paffions would not naturally lead us to wifh to be inftrumental in bringing it about. Tho* we could fear no punifhment in confequence of*our having had fome hand it, we would rather that it fhould happen by other means. To one under the dominion of violent hatred it would be agreeable, perhaps, to hear, that the perfon whom he abhorred and detefted was killed by fome accident. But if he had the leafl fpark of jultice, which, though this paf- fion is not very favourable to virtue, he might flill have, it would hurt him exceflively to have been him- felf, even without defign, the occafion of this misfor- tune. Much more would the very thought of volun- tarily contributing to it fhock him beyond all meafure. He would reject with horror even the imagination of fo execrable a defign ; and if he could imagine him- felf capable of fuch an enormity, . he would begin to regard himfelf in the fame odious light in which he had confidered the perfon who was the object of his diflike. But>it is quite otherwife with refentment:
if
Sect, i. 0/ Merit and Demerit. ioi
if the peribn who had done us fome great injury, who had murdered our father or our brother, for ex- ample, mould foon afterwards die of a fever, or even be brought to the fcaffold upon account of fome other crime, though it might footh our hatred, it would not fully gratify our refentment. Refentment would prompt us to defire, not only that he fhould be pu- nifhed, but that he mould be punifhed by our means, and upon account of that particular injury which he had done to us. Refentment cannot be fully grati- fied, unlefs the offender is not only made to grieve in his turn, but to grieve for that particular wrong which we have furfered from him. He muft be made to repent and be forry for this very action, that others, through fear of the like punifhment, may be terrified from being guilty of the like offence. The natural gratification of this paffion tends, of i^s own accord, to produce all the political ends of punifh- ment ; the correction of the criminal, and the exairn pie to the public.
Gratitude and refentment, therefore, are the fenti- ments which mod immediately and directly prompt to reward and to punifli. To us, therefore, he muft appear to deferve reward, who appears to be the proper and approved object of gratitude ; and he to deferve punifhment, who appears to be that of re- fentment.
H 3 CHAP.
T>>.
103 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II,
CHAP. II.
Of the proper objefts of gratitude and refentment.
A 0 be the proper and approved object either of gratitude or refentment, can mean nothing but to be the object of that gratitude, and of that refent- ment, which naturally feems proper, and is ap- proved of.
Eut thefe, as well as all the other paflions of hu^ man nature, feem proper and are approved of, when the heart of every impartial fpeftator entirely fym- pathizes with them, when every indifferent by- ftander entirely enters into, and goes along with them.
He, therefore, appears to deferve reward, who, to fome perfon or perfons, is the natural object of a gratitude which every human heart is difpofed to beat time to, and thereby applaud : and he, on the other hand, appears to deferve punishment, who in the fame manner is to fome perfon or perfons the natural object of a refentment which the breaft of every reafonable man is ready to adopt and fym- pathize with. To us, furely, that a&ion mull ap- pear to deferve reward, which every body who knows of it would wifh to reward, and therefore
delights
Sedt. i. Of Merit WDemerit. 103
delights to fee rewarded : and that adtion rnuft as furely appear to deferve punifhment, which every- body who hears of it is angry with, and upon that account rejoices to fee punifhed.
1. As we fympathize with the jay of our compa- nions when in profperity, fo we join with them in the complacency and fatisfadtion with which they natu- rally regard whatever is the caufe of their good for- tune. We enter into the love and affection which they conceive for it, and begin to love it too. We mould be forry for their fakes if it was deftroyed, or even if it was placed at too great a diftance from them, and out of the reach of their care and protecti- on, though they fhouid lofe nothing by its abfence except the pleafure of feeing it. If it is man who has thus been the fortunate inflrument of the happi- nefs of his brethren, this is ftill more peculiarly the cafe. When we fee one man aiiifled, protected, re- lieved by another, our fympathywith the joy of the perfon who receives the benefit ferves only to animate our fellow-feeling with his gratitude towards him who bellows it. When we look upon the perfon who is the caufe of his pleafure with the eyes with which we imagine he muft look upon him, his bene- factor feems to ftand before us in the moil engaging and amiable light. We readiiy therefore fympathize with the grateful affection which he conceives for a perfon to whom he has been fo much obliged ; and confequently applaud the returns which he is difpof- ed to make for the good offices conferred upon him. As we entirely enter into the affection from which thefe returns proceed, they neceffarily feem every way proper and fuitable to their object.
H 4 2. In
104 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II f
2. In the fame manner, as we fympathize with the forrow of our fellow -creature whenever we fee his diftrefs, fo we likewife enter into his abhorrence and averfion for whatever has given occafion to it. Our heart, as it adopts and beats time to his grief, fo is it likewife animated with that fpirit by which he endeavours to drive away or deftroy the caufe of it. The indolent and paflive fellow-feeling, by which we accompany him in his fufTerings, readily gives way to that more vigorous and active fentiment by which we go along with him in the effort he makes, either to repel them, or to gratify his averfion to what has given occafion to them. This is (till more peculiarly the cafe, when it is man who has caufed them. When we fee one man oppreffed or injured by an- other, the fympathy which we feel with the diftrefs of the fufferer feems to ferve only to animate our fellow-feeling with his refentment againfl the offend- er. We are rejoiced to fee him attack his adverfary in his turn, and are eager and ready to aflift him whenever he exerts himfelf for defence, or even for vengeance within a certain degree. If the injured mould perifh in the quarrel, we not only fympathize with the real refentment of his friends and relations, but with the imaginary refentment which in fancy we lend to the dead, who is no longer capable of feeling that or any other human fentiment. But as we put ourfelves in his fituation, as we enter, as it were, into his body, and in our imaginations, in fome meafure, animate anew the deformed and mangled carcafs of the flain, when we bring home in this man^ ner his cafe to our own bofoms, we feel upon this, as upon many other occafions, an emotion which the x perfon
Seel:, i. Of Merit ^Demerit. 105
perfon principally concerned is incapable of feeling, and which yet we feel by anillufive fympathy with him. The fym pathetic tears which we fhed for that immenfe and irretrievable lofs, which in our fancy he appears to have {Villained, feern to be but a fmallpart of the duty which we owe him. The in- jury which he has differed demands, we think, a principal part of our attention. We feel that relent- merit which we imagine he ought to feel, and which he would feel, if in his cold and lifelefs body there remained any conlcioufnefs of what paries upon earth. His blood, we think, calls aloud for ven- geance. The very aihes. of the dead feem to be diflurbed at the thought that his injuries are to pafs unrevenged. The horrors which are fuppoled to haunt the bed of the murderer, the ghofls which, fuperftition imagines, rife from their graves to de- mand vengeance upon thofe who brought them to an untimely end, all take their origin from this na- tural fympathy with the imaginary refentment of the (lain. And with regard, at lead, to this moft dreadful of ail crimes, Nature, antecedent to all re- flections upon the utility of punifhment, has in this manner {tamped upon the human heart, in the ftrongeft and moft indelible characters, an imme- diate and iniVin&ive approbation of the jacted aad peceflary law of retaliation.
C H A P
io6 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
CHAP. III.
"That where there is no approbation of the conduct of the perfon who confers the benefit, there is little fympa- thy with the gratitude of him who receives it : and that, on the contrary, where there is no difapproba- tion of the motives of the perfon who does the mif chief there is no fort of fympathy with the refentment of him isoho fuffers it.
i
T is to be obferved, however, that, how benefi- cial foever on the one hand, or how hurtful foever on the other, the actions or intentions of the perfon who ads may have been to the per- fon who is, if I may fay fo,, aded upon, yet if in the one cafe there appears to have been no propriety in the motives of the agent, if we cannot enter into the affedions which influenced his condud, we have little fympathy with the gratitude of the per- fon who receives the benefit : or if, in the other cafe, there appears to have been no impropriety in the motives of the agent, if, on the contrary, the affections which influenced his condud are fuch as we muft- neceflarily enter into, we can have no fort of fympathy with the refentment of the per- fon who fuffers. Little gratitude feems due in the one cafe, and all fort of refentment feems unjuft in the other. The <*ne adion feems to merit little reward, the other to defer ve no.punifliment.
I. Firfl,
Sect, i. Of Merit and Demerit. 107
1 . Firft, I fay, that wherever we cannot fympa- thize with the affections of the agent, wherever there feems to be no propriety in the motives which influ- enced his conduct, we are lefs difpofed to enter into the gratitude of the perfon who received the benefit of his actions. A very fmall return feems due to that fooliih and profufe generofity which confers the greater! benefits from the moft trivial motives, and gives an eflate to a man merely becaufe his name and furname happen to be the fame with thofe of the giver. Such fervices do not feem to demand any proportionable recompenfe. Our contempt for the folly of the agent hinders us from thoroughly enter- ing into the gratitude of the perfon to whom the good office has been done. His benefactor feems un- worthy of it. As when we place ourfelves in the fituation of the perfon obliged, we feel that we could conceive no great reverence for fuch a benefactor, we eafily abfolve him from a great deal of that fub- miflive veneration and efteem which we mould think due to a more refpectable character; and provided he always treats his weak friend with kindnefs and humanity, we are willing to excufe him from many attentions and regards which we mould demand to a worthier patron. Thofe Princes, who have heaped, with the greateft profufion, wealth, power, and honours, upon their favourites, have feldom excited that degree of attachment to their perfons which has often been experienced by thofe who were more fru- gal of their favours. The well-natured, but injudici- ous prodigality of James the Firft of Great Britain feems to have attached no body to his perfon 5 and that Prince, notwithflanding his focial and harmlefs difpofition, appears to have lived and died with- out
io8 0/ Merit and Demerit. Part II.
out a friend. The whole gentry and nobility of England expofed their lives and fortunes in the caufe of his more frugal and diftinguifhing fon, notwithstanding the coldnefs and diftant feverity of his ordinary deportment.,
2. Secondly, I fay, That wherever the conduct of the agent appears to have been entirely directed by motives and affections which we thoroughly enter into and approve of, we can have no fort of fympathy with the refentment of the fufferer, how great foever the mifchief which may have been done to him. When two people quarrel, if we take part with, and entirely adopt the relent men t of one of them, it is impoflible that we fhould enter into that of the other. Our fympathy with the perfon whofe motives we go along with, and whom therefore we look upon as in the right, cannot but harden us againft all fellow-feeling with the other, whom we neceiTarily regard as in the wrong. Whatever this lair, therefore, may have fuffered, while it is no more than what we ourfelves fhould have wifhed him to fuffer, while it is no more than what our own fympathetic indignation would have prompted us to inflict upon him, it cannot either difpleafe or provoke us. When an inhuman murderer is brought to the fcarTold, though we have fome companion for his mifery, we can have no fort of fellow-feeling with his refentment, if he mould be fo abfurd as to exprefs any againft either his pirofecutor or his judge. The natural tendency of their juft indignation againft fo vile a criminal is indeed the moll fatal and ruinous to him. But it is impoflible that we fhould be dif-
pleafed
Sect, i. 0/ Merit and Demerit. 109
pleafed with the tendency of a fentiment, which, when we bring the cafe home to ourfeives, we feel that we cannot avoid adopting.
CHAP. IV.
Recapitulation of the foregoing Chapters.
w
E do not, therefore, thoroughly and heartily fympathize with the gratitude of one man towards another, merely becauie this other has been the caufe of his good fortune, unlefs he has been the caufe of it from motives which we entirely go along with. Our heart muft adopt the principles of the agent, and go along with all the affections which influenced his conduct, before it can entirely fym- pathize with, and beat time to, the gratitude of the perfon who has been benefited by his actions. If in the conduct of the benefactor there appears to have been no propriety, how beneficial foever its effects, it does not feem to demand, or neceflarily to require, any proportionable recompenfe.
But when to the beneficent tendency of the action is joined the propriety of the affection from which it proceeds, when we entirely fympathize and go along with the motives of the agent, the love which we conceive for him upon his own account, enhances and enlivens our fellow-feeling
with
no Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL
with the gratitude of thofe who owe their profperity to his good conduct. His actions feem then to demand, and, if I may fay fo, to call aloud for a proportionable recompenfe. We then entirely en- ter into that gratitude which prompts to beftow it. The benefactor feems then to be the proper object of reward, when we thus entirely fympathize with, and approve of, that fentiment which prompts to reward him. When we approve of, and go along with, the affection from which the action proceeds, we muft neceffarily approve of the action, and re- gard the perfon towards whom it is directed as its proper and fuitable object.
2. In the fame manner, we cannot at all fympa- thize with the refentment of one man againft ano- ther, merely becaufe this other has been the caufe of his misfortune, unlefs he has been the caufe of it from motives which we cannot enter into. Before we can adopt the refentment of the fufferer, we muft difapprove of the motives of the agent, and feel that our heart renounces all fympathy with the affections which influenced his conduct. If there appears to have been no impropriety in thefe, how fatal foever the tendency of the action which pro- ceeds from them to thofe againft whom it is di- rected, it does not feem to deferve any punifh- ment, or to be the proper object of any refent- ment.
But when to the hurtfulnefs of the action is join- ed the impropriety of the affection from whence it proceeds, when our heart rejects with abhorrence all fellow-feeling with the motives of the agents
wc
Sedt. i. Of Merit and Demerit; hi
we then heartily and entirely fympathize with the refentment of the fufferer. Such actions feem then to defer ve, and, if I may fay fo, to call aloud for, a proportionable punifhment • and we entirely enter into, and thereby approve of, that refentment which prompts to inflict it. The offender neceffarily feems then to be the proper object of punifhment, when we thus entirely fympathize with, and thereby approve of, that fentiment which prompts to punifh. In this cafe too, when we approve, and go along with, the affection from which the action proceeds, we mufl neceffarily approve of the action, and regard the perfon againfl: whom it is directed, as its proper and fuitable object.
CHAP.
ii2 Of Me r i t and Dem er i f i Part IL
CHAP. \f.
Tbe analyjis of the fenfe of merit and demerit,
■A
S our fenfe, therefore, of the propriety of conduct arifes from what I mall call a direct fympa- thy with the affections and motives of the perfon who ads, fo our [enk of its merit arifes from what I (hall call an indirect lympathy with the gratitude of the perfon who is, if I may fay fo, acted upon.
As we cannot indeed enter thoroughly into the gratitude of the perfon who receives the benefit, unlefs we beforehand approve of the motives of the benefactor, fo, upon this account, the fenfe of merit feems to be a compounded fentiment, and to be made up of two diftinct emotions ; a direct fympa- thy with the fentiments of the agent, and an indi- rect fympathy with the gratitude of thofe who re- ceive the benefit of his actions.
We may, upon many different occafions, plainly diftinguifh thofe two different emotions combining and uniting together in our fenfe of the good defert of a particular character or action. When we read in hiflory concerning actions of proper and beneficent greatnefs of mind, how eagerly do we enter into fuch defigns ? How much are we animated by that
high-
Sett. i. O/Merit and Demerit. 113
high-fpirited generofity which directs them ? How- keen are we for their fuccefs ? How grieved at their difappointment ? In imagination we become the very perfon whofe actions are reprefented to us : we tran- fport ourfelves in fancy to the fcenes of thofe diftant and forgotten adventures, and imagine ourfelves acting the part of a Scipio or a Camillus, a Timole- on or an Ariltides. So far our fentiments are found- ed upon the direct fympathy with the perfon who atts. Nor is the indirect fympathy with thofe who receive the benefit of fuch actions lefs fenfibly felt. Whenever we place ourfelves in the fituation of thefe lait, with what warm and affectionate fellow-feeling do we enter into their gratitude towards thofe who ferved them fo effentially ? We embrace, as it were, their benefactor along with them. Our heart readily fym- pathizeswith the higheft tranfports of their grateful affection. No honours, no rewards, we think, can be too great for them to beftow upon him. When they make this proper return for his fervices, we heartily applaud and go along with them ; but are- mocked beyond all meafure, if by their conduct they appear to have little fenfe of the obligations conferred upon them. Our whole fenfe, in fhort, of the merit and good defert of fuch actions, of the proprie- ty and fitnefs of recompenfing them, and making the perfon who performed them rejoice in his turn, arifes from the fympathetic emotions of gratitude and love, with which, when we bring home to our own breaft the fituation of thofe principally concern- ed, we feel ourfelves naturally tranfported towards the man who could act with fuch pro]£er and noble beneficence.
I 2. In
ii4 0/ Merit and Demerit. Part II.
2. In the fame manner as our fenfe of the impro- priety of conduct arifes from a want of fyrnpathy, or from a direct antipathy to the affections and motives of the agent, fo our fenfe of its demerit arifes from what I fhall here too call an indirect fyrnpathy with the refentment of the fufferer.
As we cannot indeed enter into the refentment of the fufferer, unlefs our heart beforehand difapproves the motives of the agent, and renounces all fellow- feeling with them ; foupon this account the fenfe of demerit, as well as that of merit, feems to be a com- pounded fentiment, and to be made up of two dif- tinct emotions ; a direct antipathy to the fentiments of the agent, and an indirect fyrnpathy with the re- fentment of the fufferer.
We may here too, upon many different occafions, plainly diftinguifh thofe two different emotions com- bining and uniting together in our fenfe of the ill defert of a particular character or action. 'When we read in hiflory concerning the perfidy and cruelty of a Borgia or a Nero, our heart rifes up againft the deteftable fentiments which influenced their conduct, and renounces with horror and abomination all fel- low-feeling with fuch execrable motives. So far our fentiments are founded upon the direct antipathy to the affections of the agent : and the indirect fyrn- pathy with the refentment of the fufferers is ftill more fenfibly felt. When we bring home to our- felves the fituation of the perfons whom thofe fcourges of mankind infalted, murdered, or betray- ed, what indignation do we not feel againft fuch in- folent and inhuman opprelfors of the earth ? Our
fyrnpathy
Seel:, i. Of Merit ^Demerit. 115
fympathy with the unavoidable diilrefs of the innocent fufferers is not more real nor more lively, than our fellow-feeling with their juft and natural refentment. The former fentiment only heightens the latter, and the idea of their diflrefs ferves only to inflame and blow up our animofrty againil thofe who occafioned it. When we think of the anguifh of the fufferers, we take part with them more earneflly againil their oppreflbrs ; we enter with more eagernefs into all their fchemes of vengeance, and feel ourfelves every moment wreaking, in imagination, upon fuch viola- tors of the laws of iociety, that puniihment which Our fympathetic indignation tells us is due to their crimes. Our fenfe of the horror and dreadful atro- city of fuch conduct, the delight which we take in hearing that it was properly punifhed, the indigna- tion which we feel when it efcapes this due retaliati- on, our whole fenfe and feeling, in fhort, of its ill defert, of the propriety and fitnefs of infii&ing evil upon the perfon who is guilty of it, and of making him grieve in his turn, arifes from the fympathetic indignation which naturally boils up in the breaft of the fpectator, whenever he thoroughly brings home to himfelf the cafe of the fufferer *.
* To afcribe in this manner our natural fenfe of the ill defert of human actions to a fympathy with the refentment of the fufter- er, may feem, to the greater part of people, to be. a degradation of that fentiment. Refentment is commonly regarded as fo odious a paffion, that they will be apt to think it impoffible that fo lau- dable a principle, as the fenfe of the ill defert of vice, fhould in any refpect be founded upon it. They will be more willing, per- haps, to admit that our fenfe of the merit of good actions is found- ed upon a fympathy with the gratitude of the perfons who re- ceive the benefit of them ; becaufe gratitude, as well as all the other benevolent paflions, is regarded as an amiable principle, which can take nothing from the worth of whatever is founded
I 2 ut>qt\
n6 O/Merit and Demerit. Part II.
upon it. Gratitude and refentment, however, are in every refpect, it is evident, counterparts to one another ; and if our fenfe of merit arifes from a fympathy with the one, our fenfe of demerit can fcarce mifs to proceed from a fellow feeling with the other.
Let it be confidered too that refentment, though, in the degrees in which we too often fee it, the moil: odious, perhaps, of all the paffions, is not difapproved of when properly humbled and entirely brought down to the level of the fympathetic indignation of the fpectator. When we, who are the byftanders, feel that our own animofity entirely correfponus with that of the fufferer, when the refentment of this laft does not in any refpect go beyond our own, when no word, no gefture, efcapes him that denotes an emotion more violent than what we can keep time to, and when he never aims at infliding any punilhment beyond what we mould rejoice to fee. inflicted, or what we ourfelves would upon this account even defne to be the inftruments of infliding, it is impoflible that we mould not entirely approve of his fentiments. Our own emotion in this cafe mud, in our eyes, undoubtedly juftify his. And as experience teaches us how much the greater part of mankind are incapable of this moderation, and how great an effort muft be made in order to bring down the rude and undifciplined impulfe of re- fentment to this faitable temper, we cannot avoid conceiving a confiderable degree of efteem and admiration for one who appears capable of exerting fo much felf command over one of the mod ungovernable paffions of his nature. When indeed the animofity of the fufferer exceeds, as it almoft always does, what we can go along with, as we cannot enter into it, we neceffarily difapprove of it. We even difapprove of it more than we mould of an equal exeefs of almoft any other paffion derived from the imagination. And this too violent refentment, inftead of carrying us along with it, becomes itfelf the object of our refentment and indignation. We enter into the oppofite refentment of the perfon who is the object of this unjuft emotion, and who is in danger of fuffering from it. P.evenge, therefore, the exeefs of refentment, appears to be the moll deteftable of all the paflions, and is the object of the horror and indignation of every body. And as in the way in which this paflion commonly difcovers itfelf among mankind, it is excelltve a hundred times for once that it is moderate, we are very apt to con- fider it as altogether^o-Jious and deteftable, becaufe in its moft or- dinary appearances it is fo. Nature, however, even in the prefent depraved ftate of mankind, does not feem to have dealt fo unkindly
with
Sedt. i. Of Merit and Demerit. 117
with us, as to have endowed us with any principle which is wholly in every refpect evil, or which, in no degree and in no direc- tion, can be the proper object of praife and approbation. Upon fome occailons we are fenfible that this pafiion, which is generally too ftrong, may likewife be too weak. We fometimes complain that a particular perfon thews too little ipirit, and has too little fenfe of the injuries that have been done to him; and we are as ready to defpife him for the defect, as to hate him for the excefs of this paffion.
The infpired writers would not rarely have talked fo frequently or fo ftrongiy of the wrath and anger of God, if they had regarded every degree of thofe paffions as vicious and evil, even in fo weak and imperfect a creature as man.
Let it be confidered too, that the prefent inquiry is not concern- ing a matter of right, if 1 may fay fo, but concerning a matter of fact. We are not at prefent examining upon what principles a per- fect being would approve of the puniihment of bad actions ; but upon what principles fo weak and imperfect a creature as man actually and in fact approves of it. The principles which I have juft now mentioned, it is evident, have a very great effect upon his fentiments ; and it feems wifely ordered that it ihould be fo. 1 he very exigence of fociety requires that unmerited and unprovoked malice ihould be retrained by proper puniihments j and code- quently, that to inflict thofe puniihments mould be regarded as a proper and laudable action. Though man, therefore, be naturally endowed with a defire of the welfare and prefervation of fociety, yet the Author of nature has not entrufted it to his reafon to find out that a certain application of puniihments is the proper means of attaining this end ; but has endowed him with an immediate and inftinctive approbation of that very application which is moll proper to attain it. The ceconomy of nature is in this refpect ex- actly of a piece with what it is upon many other occafions. ; With regard to all thofe ends which, upon account of their peculiar im- portance, may be regarded, if fuch an exprefiion is allowable, as the favourite ends of nature, fhe has conftantly in this manner not only endowed mankind with an appetite for the end which fhe pro- pofes, but likewife with an appetite for the means by which alone this end can be brought about, for their own fakes, and independent of their tendency to produce it. Thus felf prefervation, and the propagation of the fpecies, are the great ends which Nature feems to have propofed in the formation of all animals. Mankind are
I , eadowed
1 1 8 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
endowed with a defue of thofe ends, and an averfion to the contra- ry ; with a love of life, and a dread of diiTolution ; with a defire of the continuance and perpetuity of the fpecies, and with an aver- fion to the thought's of its intire extinction. But though we are in this manner endowed with a very ilrong defire of thofe ends, it has not been intruded to the How and uncertain determinations of our reafon, to find out the proper means of bringing them about. Na- ture has directed us to the greater part of thefe by original and immediate inftincts. Hunger, third, the pafiion which unites the two fexes, the love of pleafure, and the dread of pain, prompt us to apply thofe means for their own fakes, and without any con- fideration of their tendency to thofe beneficent ends which the great Director of nature intended to produce by them.
Before I conclude this note, I mud take notice of a difference between the approbation of propriety and that of merit or benefi- cence. Before we approve of the fentiments of any perfon as pro- per and fuitable to their objects, we mull not only be affected in the fame manner as he is, but we mull perceive this harmony and cor- refpondence of fentiments between him and ourfelves. Thus, though upon hearing of a misfortune that had befallen my friend, I mould conceive precifely that degree of concern which he gives way to j yet till I am informed of the manner in which he behaves, till I perceive the harmony between his emotions and mine, I cannot be faid to approve of the fentiments which influence his behaviour. The approbation of propriety therefore requires, not only that we fhould intirely fympathize with the peifon who acts, but that we mould perceive this perfect concord between his fentiments and our own. On the contrary, when I hear of a benefit that has been be- llowed upon another peifon, let him who has received it be affected in what manner he pleafes, if, by bringing his cafe home to myfelf, I feel gratitude arife in my own bread, 1 necelTarily approve of the conduct of his benefactor, and regard it as meritorious, and the pro- per object of reward. Whether the perfon who has received the benefit conceives gratitude or not, cannot, it is evident, in any degree alter our fentiments with regard to the merit of him who has bellow ed it. No actual correfpondence of fentiments, therefore, is here re- quired. It is fufficient that if he was grateful, they would correi- pond ; and our fenfe of merit is often founded upon one of thofe illufive fympathies, by which, when we bring home to ourfelves the cafe of another, we are often affected in a manner in which the per- fon principally concerned is incapable of being affected. There is a fimilar difference between our difapprobation of dement, and that of impropriety. SEC-
Sect. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 119
SECTION II.
Of juftice and beneficence,
CHAP. 1
Comparifon of thofe two virtues.
xxCTIONS of a beneficent tendency, which pro- ceed from proper motives, feem alone to require reward; becaufe fuch alone are the approved ob- jects of gratitude, or excite the fympathetic gratis tude of the fpectator.
Actions of a hurtful tendency, which proceed from improper motives, feem alone to deferve punifh- ment ; becaufe fuch alone are the approved objects of refentment, or excite the fympathetic refentment of the fpectator.
Beneficence is always free, it cannot be extorted by force, the mere want of it expofes to no punifh- ment ; becaufe the mere want of beneficence tends to do no real pofitive evil. It may difappoint of the good which might reafonably have been expected, and upon that account it may juftly excite difiike and difapprobation ; it cannot, however, provoke I 4 any
l2o Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL
any refentment which mankind will go along with. The man who does not recompenfe his benefactor, when he has it in his power, and when his benefactor needs his arnftance, is, no doubt, guilty of the black- eft ingratitude. The heart of every impartial fpec- tator rejects all fellow-feeling with the felfifhnefs of his motives, and he is the proper object of the higheft difapprobation. But flill he does no pofitive hurt to any body. He only does not do that good which in propriety he ought to have done. He is the ob- ject of hatred, a paflion which is naturally excited by impropriety of fentiment and behaviour ; not of refent- ment^ paflion which is never properly called forth but by actions which tend to do real and pofitive hurt to fome particular perfons. His v/ant of gratitude, therefore, cannot be punilhed. To oblige him by force to perform what in gratitude he ought to per- form, and what every impartial fpectator would ap- prove of him for performing, would if poflible, be Itill more improper than his neglecting to perform it. His benefactor would difhonour himfelf if he attempt- ed by violence to conftrain him to gratitude, and it would be impertinent for any third perfon, who was not the fuperior cf either, to intermeddle. But of all the duties of beneficence, thofe which gratitude re- commends to us approach neareit to what is called a perfect and complete obligation. What friend- ship, what generofity, what charity, would prompt us to do with univerfal approbation, is (till more free, and can ftill lefs be extorted by force than the duties of gratitude. We talk of the debt of grati- tude, not of charity, or generofity, nor even of friend - fliip, when friendfhip is mere efteem, and has not been enhanced and complicated with gratitude for
good offices.
Refent^-
Sect, a. Of Merit and Demerit. 12,1
Refentment feems to have been given us bv na- ture for defence, and for defence only. It is the fafeguard of juftice and the fecurity of innocence. It prompts us to beat off the mifchief which is at- tempted to be done to us, and to retaliate that which is already done ; that the offender may be made to repent of his injuftice, and that others, through fear of the like punifhment, may be terrified from being guilty of the like offence. It muft be refer ved therefore for thefe purpofes, nor can the fpedator ever go along with it when it is exerted for any other. But the mere want of the beneficent virtues, though it may difappoint us of the good which might reafonably be expected, neither does, nor at- tempts to do, any mifchief from which we can have occafion to defend ourfelves.
There is however another virtue, of which the ob- fervance is not left to the freedom of our own wills, which may be extorted by force, and of which the violation expofes to refentment, and confequently to punifhment. This virtue is juftice : the violation of juftice is injury : it does real and pofitive hurt to fome particular perfons, from motives which are na- turally difapproved of. It is, therefore, the proper object of relentment, and of punifhment, which is the natural confequence of refentment. As man- kind go along with, and approve of, the violence employed to avenge the hurt which is done by in- juftice, fo they much more go along with, and ap- prove of, that which is employed to prevent and beat off the injury, and to reftrain the offender from hurting his neighbours. The perfon himfelf who meditates an injuftice is fenfible of this, and feels that force may, with the utmoft propriety, be
made
122 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
made ufe of, both by the perfon whom he is about to injure, and by others, either to obitruct the ex- ecution of his crime, or to punifh him when he has executed it. And upon this is founded that re- markable dirtindion between juftice and all the other focial virtues, which has of late been parti- cularly infilled upon by an author of very great and original genius, that we feel ourfelves to ba under a drifter obligation to ad according to juftice, than agreeably to friendship, charity, or genero- iity ; that the practice of thefe laft mentioned vir- tues feems to be left in fome meafure to our own choice but that, fomehow or other, we feel our- felves to be in a peculiar manner tied, bound, and obliged to the obfervation of juftice. We feel, that is to fay, that force may, with the utmoft pn> priety and with the approbation of all mankind, be made ufe of to conftrain us to obferve the rules of the one, but not to follow the precepts of the other.
We mull: always, however, carefully diftinguifh what is only blamable, or the proper object of dif- approbation, from what force may be employed ei- ther to punifh or to prevent. That feems blamable which falls (hort of 'that ordinary degree of proper beneficence which experience teaches us to expect of every body •, and on the contrary, that feems praife-worthy which goes beyond it. The ordinary degree itfelf, feems neither blamable nor praife-^ worthy. A father, a fon, a brother, who behaves to the correfpondent relation, neither better nor worfe than the greater part of men commonly do, feems properly to deferve neither praife nor blame. He who furprifes us by extraordinary and unexpect- ed,
Sedt 2. 0/ Merit W Demerit. 123
ed, though (till proper and fuitable kindnefs, or on the contrary, by extraordinary and unexpected, as well as unfuitable unkindnefs, feems praife-worthy in the one cafe, and blamable in the other.
Even the moil ordinary degree of kindnefs or be- neticehce, however, cannot, among equals, be ex- torted by force. Among equals each individual is naturally, and antecedent to the inftitution of ci- vil government, regarded as having a right both to defend himfelf from injuries, and to exact a certain degree of punilhment for thofe which have been done to him. Every generous fpectator not only ap- proves of his conduct when he does this, but enters fo far into his fentiments as often to be willing: to afliil him. When one man attacks, or robs, or at- tempts to murder another, all the neighbours take the alarm, and think that they do right when they run, either to revenge the perfon who has been injured, or to defend him who is in danger of being fo. But when a father fails in the ordinary degree of parental af- fection towards a fon ; when a fon feems to want that filial reverence which might be expected to his father ; when brothers are without the ufual degree of bro- therly affection • when a man (huts his breaft againft xompafiion, and refufes to relieve the mifery of his fellow-creatures, when he can with the greater!: eafe ; in all theie cafes, though every body blames the conduct, nobody imagines that thofe who might have reafon, perhaps, to expect more kindnefs, have any right to extort it by force. The fufferer can only complain, and the fpectator can intermed- dle no other way than by advice and perfuallon. Upon all fuch occafions, for equals to ufe force
againft
124 Of Merit and Demerit. Part If.
againft one another, would be thought the higheft degree of infolence and prefumption.
A fuperior may, indeed, fometimes, with univer- sal approbation, oblige thofe under his jurifdidtion to behave, in this refpect, with a certain degree of propriety to one another. The laws of all civilized nations oblige parents to maintain their children, and children to maintain their parents, and impofe upon men many other duties of beneficence. The. civil magistrate is entriifted with the power not only of preferving the public peace by reftraining injuf- tice, but of promoting the profperity of the com- monwealth, by eftablifhing good discipline, and by difcouraging every fort of vice and impropriety ; he may prefcribe rules, therefore, which not only prohibit mutual injuries among fellow citizens, but command mutual good offices to a certain degree. When the fovereign commands what is merely in- different, and what, antecedent to his orders, might have been omitted without any blame, it becomes not only blamable but punifhabie to difobey him. When he commands, therefore, what, antecedent to any fuch order, could not have been omitted with- out the greateft blame, it furely becomes much more punifhabie to be wanting in obedience. Of all the duties of a law-giver, however, this, perhaps, is that which it requires the greater! delicacy and re- ferve to execute with propriety and judgment. To neglect it altogether expofes the common-wealth to many grofs diforders and mocking enormities, and to pufh it too far is deitructive of all liberty, fe- curity, andjuftice.
v Though
Sect. 2. Of Merit ^Demerit. 125
Though the mere want of beneficence feems to merit no puni foment from equals, the greater ex- ertions of that virtue appear to deferve the higheft reward. By being productive of the greatefl good, they are the natural and approved objects of the livelier* gratitude. Though the breach of juftice, on the contrary, expofes to punifhment, the obfer- var.ce of the rules of that virtue feems fcarce to de- ferve any reward. There is, no doubt, a propriety in the practice of juftice, and it merits, upon that account, all the approbation which is due to pro- priety. m But as it does no real pofitive good, it is entitled to very little gratitude. Mere juftice is, upon moft occafions, but a negative virtue, and only hinders us from hurting our neighbour. The man who barely abftains from violating either the perfon, or the eflate, or the reputation of his neigh- bours, has furely very little pofitive merit. He fulfils, however, all the rules of what is peculiarly called juftice, and does everything which his equals can with propriety force him to do, or which they can punifh him for not doing. We may often fulfil all the rules of juftice by fitting ftill and doing no- thing.
As every man doth, fo mall it be done to him, and retaliation feems to be the great law which is dictated to us by Nature. Beneficence and gene- rofity we think due to the generous and beneficent. Thofe whofe hearts never open to the feelings of humanity, ftiould, we think, be fhut out in the fame manner, from the affections of all their fellow- creatures, and be allowed to live in the midft of fo- ciety,. as in a great defert where there is no-body to care for them, or to inquire after them. The vio- lator
126 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II..
latorof the laws of juftice ought to be made to feel himfelf that evil which he has done to another ; and fince no regard to the fufFerings of his brethren are capable of reftraining him, he ought to be over- awed by the fear of his own. The man who is barely in-6 nocent? who only obferves the law of juftice with regard to others, and. merely abftains from hurting, his neighbours, can merit only that his neighbours in their turn mould refpecl his innocence, and that the fame laws mould be religioufly obferved with re-
gard to him
CHAP. II.
Of the fenfe of juftice, of remorfe, and of the confci* oufnefs of merit.
\_ HERE can be no proper motive for hurting our neighbour, there can be no incitement to do evil to another, which mankind will go along with, ex- cept jufl indignation for evil which that other has done to us. To difturb his happinefs merely be- caufe it Hands in the way of our own, to take from him what is of real ufe to him merely becaufe it may be of equal or more ufe to us, or to indulge, in this manner, at' the expence of other people, the natural preference which every man has for his own happi- nefs above that of other people, is what no impar- tial fpe&ator can go along with. Every man is, no doubt, by nature} fir ft and principally recommend- ed to his own care ; and as he is fitter to take care
of
Sect. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 127
of himfelf than of any other perfon, it is fit and right that it fhould be fo. Every man, therefore, is much more deeply interefted in whatever immediately concerns himfelf, than in what concerns any other man: and to hear, perhaps, of the death of another perfon, with whom we have no particular connexion, will give us lefs concern, will fpoil our flomach, or break our reft much lefs than a very infignificant difafter which has befallen ourfelves. But though the ruin of our neighbour may affect us much lefs than a very fmall misfortune of our own, we mult not ruin him to prevent that fmall misfortune, nor even to prevent our own ruin. We muft, here, as in all other cafes, view ourfelves not fo much ac- cording to that light in which we may naturally ap- pear to ourfelves, as according to that in which we naturally appear to others. Though every man may, according to the proverb, be the whole world to himfelf, to the reft of mankind he is a moft infig- nificant part of it. Though his own happinefs may be of more importance to him than that of all the world befides, to every other perfon it is of no more confequence than that of any other man. Though it may be true, therefore, that every individual, in his own breaft, naturally prefers himfelf to all man- kind, yet he dares not look mankind in the face, and avow that he acts according to this principle. He feels that in this preference they can never go along with him, and that how natural foever it may be to him, it muft always appear exceflive and ex- travagant to them. When he views himfelf in the light in which he is confcious that others will view him, he fees that to them he is but one of the mul- titude in no refpect better than any other hi it. If he would ad Co as that the impartial fpectator may
enter
128 Of Merit ^Demerit. Part II,
enter into the principles of his conduct, which is what of all things he has the greater!: defire to do, he rrtuft, upon this, as upon all other occafions, humble the arrogance of his felf-love, and bring it down to fomething which other men can go along with. They will indulge it fo far as to allow him to be more anxious about, and to purfue with more earneil affiduitv, his own happinefs than that of any other perfon. Thus far, whenever they place them- felves in his fituation, they will readily go along with him. In the race for wealth and honours, and pre- ferments, he may rim as hard as he can, and {train every nerve and every mufcle, in order to outftrip all his competitors. But if he mould juftle, or throw down any of them, the indulgence of the fpeclators is entirely at an end. It is a violation of fair play, which they cannot admit of. This man is to them, in every refpecl:, as good as he : they do not enter into that felf-love by which he prefers himfelf fo much to this other, and cannot go along with the motive from which he hurt him. They readily, therefore, fympathize with the natural refentment of the injured, and the offender becomes the object of their hatred and indignation. He is fenfiblethat he becomes fo, and feels that thofe fentiments are ready to burft out from all fides againfl him.
As the greater and more irreparable the evil that is done, the refentment of the fufferer runs naturally the higher^ fo does likewife the fympat'hetic indig- nation of the fpeclator, as well as the fenfe of guilt in the agent. Death is the greaterr. evil which one man can inflict upon another, and excites the high- eft degree of refentment in thofe who are immedi- ately connected with the (lain. Murder, therefore,
is
Sect. 2 Of Merit WDemerit. 129
is the moil attrocious of all crimes which affect in- dividuals only, in the fight both of mankind, and of the perfon who has committed it. To be deprived of that which we are poifeffed of, is a greater evil than to be disappointed of what we have only the expectation. Breach of property, therefore, theft and robbery, which take from us what we are pof- fefled of, are greater crimes than breach of contract which only difappoints us of what we expected. The mofl facred laws of juftice, therefore, thofe whofe violation feems to call the loudefl for ven- geance and punifhment, are the laws which guard the life and perfon of our neighbour ; the next are thofe which guard his property and poffeflions ; and laft of all come thofe which guard what are called his perfonal rights, or what is duetto him from the promifes of others.
The violator of the more facred laws of juftice can never reflect on the fentiments which mankind muft entertain with regard to him, without feeling all the agonies of fhame, and horror, and confter- nation. When his paflion is gratified, and he be- gins coolly to reflect upon his conduct, he can enter into none of the motives which influenced it. They appear now as deteflable to him as they did always to other people. By fympathizing with the hatred and abhorrence which other men muft entertain for him, he becomes in fome meafure the object of his own hatred and abhorrence. The fituation of the perfon, who fuffered by his injuftice, now calls upon his pity. He is grieved at the thought of it; re- grets the unhappy effects of his own conduct, and feels at the fame time that they have rendered him the proper object of the refentment and indignation
K of
130 Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL
of mankind, and of what is the natural confequence of refentment, vengeance and punifhment. The thought of this perpetually haunts him, and fills him with terror and amazement. He dares no lon- ger look fociety in the face, but imagines himfelf as it were rejected, and thrown out from the affec- tions of all mankind. He cannot hope for the con- folation of fympathy in this his greateft, and mod dreadful diftrefs. The remembrance of his crimes has fhut out all fellow-feelings with him from the hearts of his fellow-creatures. The fenti- ments which they entertain with regard to him, are the very thing which he is moil afraid of. Every thing feems hoflile, and lie would be glad to fly to fome inhofpitable defert, where he might never more behold the face of a human creature, nor read in the countenance of mankind the condemnation of his crimes. But folitude is flill more dreadful than fociety. His own thoughts can prefent him with nothing but what is black, unfortunate, and difafl- rous, the melancholy forebodings of incomprehen- fible mifery and ruin. The horror of folitude drives him back into fociety, and he comes again into the prefence of mankind, aftonifhed to appear before them, loaded with fhame and dift.rac~t.ed with fear, in order to fupplicate fome little protection from the countenance of thofe very judges, who he knows have already all unanimoufly condemned him. Such is the nature of that fentiment, which is properly called remorfe ; of all the fentiments which can en- ter the human breaft the moil: dreadful. It is made up of fhame from the fenfe of the impropriety of paft conduct ; of grief for the effe&s.of it ; of pity for thofe who fuj~fer by it ; and of the dread and ter- ror of punifhment from the confcioufnefs of the juft- ly provoked refentment of all rational creatures.
The
Sett. 2. O/Merit WDemerit. 131
The oppofite behaviour naturally infpires the op- pofite fentiment. The man who, not from frivo- lous fancy, but from proper motives, has perform- ed a generous action, when he looks forward to thofe whom he has ferved, feels himfelf to be the natural- object of their love and gratitude, and, by fympathy with them, of the efteem and approba- tion of all mankind. And when he looks back- ward to the motive from which he acted, and fur- veys it in the light in which the indifferent fpectator will furvey it, he dill continues to enter into it, and applauds himfelf by fympathy with the approbation of this fuppofed impartial judge. In both thefe points of view his' own conduct appears to him every way agreeable. His mind, at the thought of it, is filled with cheerfulnefs, ferenity, and compo- fure. He is in friendfhip and harmony with all mankind, and looks upon his fellow-creatures with confidence and benevolent fatisfaction, fecure that he has rendered himfelf worthy of their molt favour- able regards. In the combination of all thefe fenti- ments confifls the confcioufnefs of merit, or of de- fer ved reward.
K 2 CHAP,
132 0/ Merit ^ Demerit. Part II.
CHAP. III.
Of the utility of this conftitution of nature.
i
T is thus that man, who cain fubfift only in fo- ciety, was fitted by nature to that fituationfor which he was made. AH the members of human fociety ftand in need of each others afliftance, and are like- wife expofed to mutual injuries. Where thenecef- fary afliftance is reciprocally afforded from love, from gratitude, from friendship and efteem, the fociety flourishes and is happy. All the different members of it are bound together by the agreeable bands of love and affection, and are, as it were, drawn to one common centre of mutual good of- fices.
But though the neceflary afliftance fhould not be afforded from fuch generous and difmterefted mo- tives, though among the different members of the fociety there fhould be no mutual love and affection, the fociety, though lefs happy and agreeable, will not neceffarily be diflblved. Society may fubfift among different men, as among different merchants, from a fenfe of its utility, without any mutual love or affection ; and though no man in it fhould owe any obligation, or be bound in gratitude to any other, it mayxltill be upheld by a mercenary ex- change of good offices according to an agreed va~
luation.
Society,
Sedt. 2. Of Merit W Demerit, 133
Society, however, cannot fubfift among thofe who are at all times ready to hurt and injure one another. The moment that injury begins, the mo- ment that mutual fefentment and ahimofity take place, all the bands of it are broke afunder, and the different members of which it condiled are, as it were, diflipated and fcattered abroad by the violence and oppofition of their difcordant affections. If there is any fociety among robbers and murderers, they muft at leaft, according to the trite cbfervation, abflain from robbing and murdering one another. Beneficence, therefore, is lefs eilential to the exig- ence of fociety than juilice. Society may fubfift, though not in the moft' comfortable ftate, without beneficence ; but the prevalence of injuftice muft utterly deflroy it.
Though Nature, therefore, exhorts mankind to ads of beneficence, by the pleafing confcioufnefs of deferved reward, flue has not thought it neceiTary to guard and enforce the practice of it by the terrors of merited punifhment in cafe it mould be neglect- ed. It is the ornament which embellifhes, not the foundation which fupports the building, and which it was, therefore, fufhcient to recommend, but by no means neceiTary to impofe. Juftice, on the con- trary, is the main pillar that upholds the whole edi- fice. If it is removed, the great, thejmmenfe fa- bric of human fociety, that fabric which to raife and fupport feems in this world, if I may fay fo, to have been the peculiar and darling care of Nature^ muft in a moment crumble into atoms. In order to en- force the obfervation of juftice, therefore, Nature has implanted in the human breaft that confciouf- nefs of ill-defert, thofe terrors of merited punifh-
K 3 ment
134 Of "Merit and DemeriT} Part II.
merit which attend upon its violation, as the great fafe-guards of the affociation of mankind, to pro- ted the weak, to curb the violent, and to chaftife the guilty. Men, though naturally fympathetic, feel fo little for another, with whom they have no par- ticular connexion, in companion for what they feel for themfelves ; the mifery of one, who is merely their fellow-creature, is of fo little importance .to them in comparifon even of a fmall conveniency of their own -, they have it fo much in their power to hurt him, and may have fo many temptations to do fo, that if this principle did not {land up within them in his defence, and overawe them into a re- fpect for his innocence, they would, like wild beafts, be at all times ready to fly upon him ; and a man would enter an aiTembly of men as he enters a den of lions.
In every part of the univerfe we obferve means adjufted with the nicefl artifice to the ends which they are intended to produce; and in the mecha- nifm of a plant, or animal body, admire how every thing is contrived for advancing the two great pur- pofes of nature, the fupport of the individual, and the propagation of the fpecies. But in thefe, and in all fuch objects, we (till diftinguifh the efficient from the final caufe of their feveral motions and or- ganizations. The digeflion of the food, the circu- lation of the blood, and the , fecretion of the feve- ral juices which are drawn from it, are operations all of them rieceuary for the great purpofes of animal life. Yet we never endeavour to. account for them from thofe purpofes as from their efficient caufes, nor imagine that the blood circulates, or that the food digeits oPks own accord, and with a view or
intention
Sect. %. Of Merit and Demerit. 135
intention to the purpofes of circulation or digeftion. The wheels of the watch are all admirably adjufted to the end for which it was made, the pointing of the hour. All their various motions confpire in the niceft manner to produce this effect. If they were endowed with a defire and intention to produce it, they could not do it better. Yet we never afcribe any fuch defire or intention to them, but to the watch-maker, and we know that they are put in mo- tion bv a fpring, which intends the effect it pro- duces as little as they do. But though, in account- ing for the operations of bodies, we never fail to diftinguifh in this manner the efficient from the final caufe, in accounting for thofe of the mind^ we are very apt to confound thofe two different things with one another. When by natural principles we are led to advance thofe ends, which a refined and en- lightened reafon mould recommend to us, we are very apt to impute to that reafon, as to their efficient caufe, the fentiments and actions by which we ad- vance thofe ends, and to imagine that to-be the wif- dom of man, which in reality is the wifdom of God. Upon a fuperficial view this caufe feems fufficient to produce the effects which are afcribed to it ; and the fyftem of human nature feems to be more fimple and agreeable when all its different operations are in this manner deduced from a fmgle principle.
As fociety cannot fubfift unlefs the laws of juftice are totally obferved, as no focial intercourfe can take place among men who do not generally abftain from injuring one another ; the confideration of this neceflity, it has been thought, was the ground upon which we approved of the enforcement of the laws of jultice by the punifhment of thofe who violated
K 4 them.
136 Of Merit W Demerit. Part II.
them. Man, it has been faid, has a natural love for fociety, and defires that the union of mankind fhould be preferved for its own fake, and though he himfelf was to derive no benefit from it. The or- derly and flourifhing (late of fociety is agreeable to him, and he takes delight in contemplating it. Its diforder and confufion, on the contrary, is the ob- ject of his averfion, and he is chagrined at whatever tends to produce it. He is fenfibie too that his own interefl is connected with the profperity of fociety, and that the happinefs, perhaps the prefervation of his exiitence, depends upon its prefervation. Upon every account, therefore, he has an abhorrence at whatever can tend to deftroy fociety, and is willing to make ufe of every means, which can hinder fo hated and fo dreadful an event. Injuftice neceffa- rily tends to deftroy it. Every appearance of in- juftice, therefore, alarms him, and he runs, if I may fay fo, to ftop the progrefs of what, if allowed to go on, would quickly put an end to every thing that is dear to hirrr. If he cannot reftrain it by gentle and fair means, he muft bear it down by force and vio- lence, and at any rate muft put a ftop to its fur- ther progrefs. Hence it is, they fay, that he often approves of the enforcement of the law of juftice even by the capital puniftiment of thofe who vio- late them. The difturber of the public peace is hereby removed out of the world, and others are terrified by his fate from imitating his example.
Such is the account commonly given of our ap- probation of the punifhment of' injuftice. And fo far this account is undoubtedly true, that we fre- quently have occaiion to confirm our natural fenfe of the propriety and fitnefs of pimifhment, by reflec- ting
Sect. 2. Of Merit ^Demerit, 137
ting how neceflary it is for preferring the order of ibciety. When the guilty is about to fuffer that juft retaliation, which the natural indignation of mankind tells them is due to his crimes ; when the infolence of his injuftice is broken and humbled by the terror of his approaching punifhment ; when he ceafes to be an object of fear, with the generous and humane he begins to be an object of pity. The thought of what he is about to fuffer extinguishes their refentment for the fufferings of others to which he has given occafion. They are difpofed to par- don and forgive him, and to fave him from that pu- nifhment, which in all their cool hours they had con- fidered as the retribution due to fuch crimes. Here, therefore, they have occafion to call to their aflift- ance the consideration of the general intereft of fo- ciety. They counterbalance the impalfe of this weak and partial humanity by the dictates of a hu- manity that is more generous and comprehenfive. They reflect that mercy to the guilty is cruelty to the innocent, and oppofe to the emotions of com- panion which they feel for a particular perfon, a more enlarged companion which they feel for man- kind.
Sometimes too we have occafion to defend the propriety of obferving the general rules of juflice by the confideration of their necelTity to the fupport of fociety. We frequently hear the young and the li- centious ridiculing the mofl facred rules of morality, and profefling, fometimes from the corruption, but more frequently from the vanity of their hearts, the mofl abominable maxims of conduct. Our indig- nation roufes, and we are eager to refute and ex- pofe fuch deteftable principles. But though it is
their
138 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
their intrinfic hatefulnefs and deteftablenefs, which originally inflames us againfl them, we are unwil- ling to aflign this as the fole reaion why we con- demn them, or to pretend that it is merely becaufe we ourfelves hate and detefl them. The reaion, we think, would not appear to be conclufive. Yet why fhould it not > if we hate and deteft them be- caufe they are the natural and proper objects of ha- tred and deteftation ? But when we are afeed why we mould not act in fuch or fuch a manner, the very quefhion feems to fuppofe that, to thofe who afk it, this manner of acting does not appear to be for its own fake the natural and proper object of thofe fentiments. We mult (how them, therefore, that it ought to be fo for the fake of fomething elfe. Upon this account we generally cafl about for other arguments, and the confideration which full occurs to us is the diforder and confufion of fociety which would refult from the univerfal prevalence of fuch practices. We feldom fail, therefore, to infill upon this topic.
But though it commonly requires no great dif- cernment to fee the deftructive tendency of all li- centious practices to the welfare of fociety, it is fel- dom this confideration which firfl animates us a- gainit them. All men, even the mod ftupid and unthinking, abhor fraud, perfidy, and injuftice, and delight to fee them punifhed. But few men have re- flected upon the neceflity of juftice to the exiftence of fociety, how obvious foever that neceflity may ap- pear to be.
That it is not a regard to the prefervation of fo- ciety, which originally interefts us in the punifhment
of
Sett. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 1-9
of crimes committed againfl individuals, may be de- monilrated by many obvious confiderations. The concern which we take in fhe fortune and happlnefs of individuals does not, in common cafes, arife from that which we take in the fortune and happinefs of fociety. We are no more concerned for the de- ftrudtidn or lofs of a fingle man, becaufe this man is a member or part of fociety, and becaufe we mould be concerned for the definition of fociety, than we are concerned for the lofs of a fingle guinea, becaufe this guinea is a part of a thoufand guineas, and be- caufe we mould be concerned for the lofs of the whole fum. In neither cafe does our regard for the individuals arife from our regard for the multitude : but in both cafes our regard for the multitude is compounded and made up of the particular regards which we feel for the different individuals of which it is compofed. As when a fmall fum is nnjuftly taken from us we do not fo much profecute the in- jury from a regard to the prefer vation of our whole fortune, as from a regard to that particular fum which we have loft ; fo when a fingle man is injured or deftroyed, we demand the punifhment of the wrong that has been done to him, not fo much from a concern for the general intereft of fociety, as from a concern for that very individual who has been in- jured. It is to be obferved, however, that this concern does not necelfarily include in it any degree of thofe exquifite fentiments which are commonly called love, efreem, and affection, and by which we diftinguifh our particular friends and acquaintance. The concern which is requifite for this is no more than the general fellow-feeling which we have with every man merely becaufe he is our fellow-creature. We enter into the refentment even of an odious per-
fon,
140 Of Merit and Demerit. PartIL
ion, when he is injured by thofe to whom he has given no provocation. Our difapprobation of his ordinary character and conduct, does not in this cafe altogether prevent our fellow-feeling with his natural indignation ; though with thofe who are not either extremely candid, or who have not been ac- cuflomed to correct and regulate their natural fenti- ments by general rules, it is very apt to damp it.
Upon fome occafions, indeed, we both punifh and approve of punifhment, merely from a view to the general intereil of fociety, vvhich, we imagine, cannot otherwife be fecured. Of this kind are all the punifhments inflicted for breaches of what is called either civil police, or military difcipline. Such crimes do not immediately or directly hurt any | par- ticular perfon ; but their remote confequences, it is fuppofed, do produce, or might produce, either a confiderable inconveniency, or a great diforder in the fociety. A centinel, for example, who falls afleep upon his watch, furTers death by the law of war, be- caufe fuch carelefTnefs might endanger the whole ar- my. This feverity may, upon many occafions, ap- pear neceifary, and, for that reafon, juft and proper. When the prefervation of an individual is incon- fiflent with the fafety of a multitude, nothing can be more juft than that the many mould be preferred to the one. Yet this punifhment, how neceflary fo- ever, always appears to be excefllvely fevere. The natural atrocity of the crime feems to be fo little, ?nd the punifhment fo great, that it is with great difficulty that our hearts can reconcile itfelf to it. Though fuch carelefTnefs appears very blamable, yet the thought of this crime does not naturally ex- cite any fuch re"fentment, as would prompt us to
take
Sect. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 141
take fuch dreadful revenge. A man of humanity mull recollect, himfelf, mufc make an effort, and ex- ert his whole ftrmnefs and refolution, before he can bring himfelf either to inflict it, or to go along with it when it is inflicted by others. It is not, however, in this manner, that he looks upon the juft pimifh- ment of an ungrateful murderer or parricide. His heart, in this cafe, applauds with ardour, and even with tranfport, the juft retaliation which feems due to fuch deteftable crimes, and which, if, by any ac- cident, they mould happen to efcape, he would be highly enraged and difappointed. The very differ- ents fentiment with which the fpectator views thofe different punifhments, is a proof that his approba- tion of the one is far from being founded upon the fame principles with that of the other. He looks upon the centinel as an unfortunate victim, who, in- deed, mult., and ought to be, devoted to the fafety of numbers, but whom Hill, in his heart, he would be glad to fave • and he is only forry, that the inter- eft of the many mould oppofe it. Buf if the mur- derer mould efcape from puniifiment, it would ex- cite his higheft indignation, and he would call upon God to avenge, in another world, that crime which the injuftice of mankind had negle&ed to chaftife upon earth.
For it well deferves to be taken notice of, that we are fo far from imagining that injuftice ought to be punifhed in this life, merely on account of the or- der of fociety, which cannot otherwife be maintain- ed,, that Nature teaches us to hope, and religion, we fuppofe, authorizes us to expedt, that it will be pu- nifhed, even in a life to come. Our fenfe of its ill defert purfues it, if I may fay fo, even beyond the
grave,
142 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
grave, though the example of its pimimment there cannot ferve to deter the reft of mankind, who fee it not, who know it not, from being guilty of the like practices here. The juftice of God, however, we think, itill requires, that he mould hereafter avenge the injuries of the widow and the fatherlefs, who are here lb often infulted with impunity.
That the Deity loves' virtue and hates vice, as a voluptuous man loves riches and hates poverty, not for their own fakes, but for the effects which they tend to produce ; that he loves the one, only becaufe it promotes the happinefs of fociety, which his be- nevolence prompts him to defire •, and that he hates the other, only becaufe it occafionsthe miferyof man- kind, which the fame divine quality renders the ob- ject of his averfion ; is not the doctrine of untaught nature, but of an artificial refinement of reafon and philofophy. Our untaught, natural fentiments, all prompt us to believe, that as perfect virtue is fup- pofed neceilarily to appear to the Deity, as it does to us, for its own fake, and without any further view, the natural and proper object of love and re- ward, fo mult vice, of hatred and punifhment. That the gods neither refent nor hurt, was the ge- neral maxim of all the different fects of the ancient philofophy : and if, by refenting, be underitood, that violent and diforderly perturbation, which often diftracts and confounds the human breait ; or if, by hurting, be underitood, the doing mifchief wanton- ly, and without regard to propriety or juftice, fuch weaknefs is undoubtedly unworthy of the divine perfection. But if it be meant, that vice does not appear to the Deity to be, for its own fake, the ob- ject of abhorrence and averfion, and what, for its
own
Sect. 2. Of Merit WDemerit. 143
own fake, it is fit and right fhould be punifhed, the truth of this maxim feems repugnant to fome very- natural feelings. If we confult our natural fenti- ments, we are even apt to fear, left, before the ho- linefs of God, vice fhould appear to be more worthy of punjfhment than the weaknefs and imperfection of human virtue can ever feem to be of reward. Man, when about to appear before a Being of infi- nite perfection, can feel but little confidence in his own merit, or in the imperfect propriety of his own conduct. In the prefence of his fellow-creatures, he may even juftly elevate himfelf, and may often have reafon to think highly of his own character and con- duct, compared to the ftill greater imperfection of theirs. But the cafe is quite different when about to appear before his infinite Creator. To fuch a Be- ing, he fears, that his littlenefs and weaknefs can fcarce ever appear the proper object, either of ef- teem or of reward. But he can eafily conceive, how the numberlefs violations of duty, of which he has been guilty, fhould render him the proper object of averfton and punifhment ; and he thinks he can fee no reafon why the divine indignation fhould not be let loofe without any restraint, upon fo vile an in- fect, as he imagines that he himfelf mull: appear to be. If he would ftill hope for happinefs, he fufpecls that he cannot demand it from the juftice, but that he muft entreat it from the mercy of God. Repent- ance, forrow, humility, contrition at the thought of his palt conduct, feem, upon this account, the fen- timents which become him, and to be the only means which he has left for appeafmg that wrath which, he knows, he has juftly provoked. He even diftrufts the efficacy of all thefe, and naturally fears, left the wifdom of God fhould not, like the
weaknefs
144 0/ Merit and Demerit. Part II.
weaknefs of man, be prevailed upon to fpare the crime by the moft importunate lamentations of the criminal. Some other interceflion, fome other fa- crifice, fome other atonement, he imagines muft be made for him, beyond what he himfelf is capable of making, before the purity of the divinejuflice can be reconciled to his manifold offences. The doctrines of revelation coincide, in every refpeft, with thofe original anticipations of nature -, and as they teach us how little we can depend upon the imperfection of our own virtue, fo they fhow us, at the fame time, that the moft powerful interceflion has been made, and that the moft dreadful atonement has been paid for our manifold tranfgreflions and iniquities.
SEC-
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit* 145
SECTION III.
Of the influence of fortune upon the fentiments of mankind, with regard to the merit or demerit of actions.
INTRODUCTION.
Wi
HATEVER praife or blarrie can be due to any action, mufl belong either, full, to the intention or affection of the heart, from which it proceeds; or, fecondly, to the external action or movement of the body, which this affection gives occafionto; or, laft, to all the good or bad confequences, which ac- tually, and in fact, proceed from it. Thefe three different things conilitute the whole nature and cir^ cumflances of the action, and mufl be the foundation of 'whatever quality can belong to it.
That the two lalt of thefe three circumflances can- not be the foundation of any praife or blame, is abun- dantly evident ; nor has the contrary ever been af- ferted by any body. The external action or move- ment of the body is often the fame in the^mofl in- nocent and in the molt blamable actions. 'He who moots a bird, and he who moots a man, both of them
L- perform
146 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
perform the fame external movement : each of them draws the tricker of a gun. The confequences which actually, and in fact, happen to proceed from any action, are, if pofiible, Hi 11 more indifferent either to praife or blame, than even the external movement of the body. As they depend, not up- on the agent, but upon fortune, they cannot be the proper foundation for any fentirrient, of which his character and conduct are the objects.
The only confequences for which he can be ari- fwerable, or by which he can deferve either approba- tion or difapprobation of any kind, are thofe which were fome way or other intended, or thofe which, at leaft, fhow fome agreeable or difagreeable quality in the intention of the heart, from which he acted. To the intention or affection of the heart, therefore, to the propriety or impropriety, to the beneficence or hurtfulnefs of the defign, all praife or blame, all approbation or difapprobation, of any kind, which can juflly be beflowed upon any action, mufl ulti- mately belong.
When this maxim is thus propofed in abflract and general terms, there is no body who does not agree to it. Its felf-evident jultice is acknowledged by all the v/orld, and there is not a diffenting voice among all mankind. Ever)- 'body allows, that how different foever the accidental, the unintended and unforefeen confequences of different actions, yet, if the intentions or affections from which they arofe were, on the one hand, equally proper and equally beneficent, or, on the other, equally improper and equally malevolent, the merit or demerit of the ac- tions is itill the fame, and the agent is equally the fuitable object either of gratitude or of refentment.
But
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 147
But how well foever we may feem to be perfuad- ed of the truth of this equitable maxim, when we confider it after this manner, in abftract, yet when we come to particular cafes, the actual confequences which happen to proceed from any action, have a very great effect upon our fentiments concerning its merit or demerit, and almofl always either enhance or diminifh our fenfe of both. Scarce, in any one inilance, perhaps, will our fentiments be found, af- ter examination, to be entirely regulated by this rule, which we • all acknowledge ought entirely to regulate them.
This irregularity of fentiment, which every body- feels, which fcarce any body is fufficiently aware of, and which no body is willing to acknowledge, I pro- ceed now to explain ; and I fhall confider, firft, the caufe which gives occafion to it, or the mechanifnV by which nature produces it ; fecondly, the extent of its influence; and, laft of all, the end which it anfwers, or the purpofe which the Author of nature feems to have intended by it.
Lz chap:
143 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II
CHAP. I.
Of the caufes of this influence of fortune.
T,
HE caufes of pain and pleafure, whatever they are, or however they operate, feem to be the objects, which, in all animals, immediately excite thofe two paffions of gratitude and refentment. They are ex- cited by inanimated, as well as by animated objects. We are angry, for a moment, even at the ftone that hurts us. A child beats it, a dog barks at it, a cho- leric man is apt to curfe it. The leaf! reflection, in- deed, corrects this fentiment, and we foon become fenfible, that what has no feeling is a very improper object of revenge. When the mifchief, however, is very great, the object which caufed it becomes difagreeable to us ever after, and we take pleafure to burn or deftroy it. We mould treat, in this man- ner, the inftrument which had accidentally been the caufe of the death of a friend, and we mould often think ourfelves guilty of a fort of inhumanity, if we neglected to vent this abfurd fort of vengeance upon it.
We conceive, in the fame manner, a fort of gra- titude for thofe inanimated objects, which have been the caufes of great, or frequent pleafure to us. The failor, who, asxfoon as he got afhore, mould mend his fire with the plank upon which he had juft ef-
caped
Sect. 3". Of Merit and Demerit. 149
caped from a fhipwreck, would feem to be guilty of an unnatural a&ion. We mould expect that he would rather preferve it with care and affection, as a monument that was, in ibme meafure, dear to him. A man grows fond of a fnufF-box, of a pen- knife, of a ftaff which he has long made ufe of, and conceives fomething like a real love and affection for them. If he breaks or loies them, he is vexed out of all proportion to the value of the damage. The houfe which we have long lived in, the tree, whofe verdure and (hade we ha\*e long enjoyed, are both looked upon with a fort of refpect that feems due to fuch benefactors. The decay of the one, or the ruin of the other, affects us with a kind of melancholy, though we mould fuflain no lofs by it. The Dryads and the Lares of the ancients, a fort of genii of trees and houfes, were probably rirft fuggefted by this fort of affection, which the authors of thofe fuperflitions felt for fuch objects, and which feemed unreafonable, if there was nothing animated about them.
But, before any thing can be the proper object of gratitude or refentment, it mull not only be the caufe of pleafure or pain, it mult likewife be capa- ble of feeling them. Without this other quality, thofe pailions cannot vent themfelves with any fort of fatisfaction upon it. As they are excited by the caufes of pleafure and pain, fo their gratification confifts in retaliating thofe fenfations upon what gave oceafion to them 5 which it is to no purpofe to attempt upon what has no fenfibility. Animals, therefore, are lefs improper objects of gratitude and refentment than inanimated objects. The dog that bites, the ox that gores, are both of them puniflied.
L3 If
150 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II,
If they have, been the caufes of the death of any per- son, neither the public, nor the relations of the (lain, can be fatisfied, unlefs they are put to death in their J:urn \ nor is this merely for the fecurity of the liv- ing, but in fome meafure, to revenge the injury of .the dead. Thofe animals, on the contrary, that have been remarkably ferviceable to their mailers, Jbecome the objects of a very lively gratitude. We are (hocked at the brutality of that officer, mention- ed in the Turkifh Spy, who ftabbed the horfe that had carried him a-crofs an arm of the fea, left that animal mould afterwards diftinguifh fome ether per- fon by a fimilar adventure.
But, though animals are not only the caufes of pleafure and pain, but are alfo capable of feeling thofe fenfations, they are ftill far from being com- plete and perfect objects, either of gratitude or re- fentment ; and thofe paflions flill feel, that there is fomething wanting to their entire gratification. What gratitude chiefly defires, is not only to make the benefactor feel pleafure in his turn, but to make him confeious that he meets with this reward on account of his pa(l conduct, to make him pleafed with that conduct, and to fatisfy him that the perfen upon whom he beftowed his good offices was not unwor-. thy of them. What molt of all charms us in our benefactor, is the concord between his fentiments .arid our own, with regard to what intereits us fo near- ly as the worth of our own character, and the efteem that is due .to us. We are delighted to find a per- fon who values us as well as we value ourfelves, and diftinguilhes us from the reft of mankind, with an attention not unlike that with which we diftinguifh ourfelves. To maintain in him thefe agreeable and flat- tering
Sect. 3. . Of Merit and Demerit. 151
tering fentiments, is one of the chief ends propofed by the returns we are difpofed to make to him. A .generous mind often difdains the interefted thought of extorting new favours from its benefactor, by what may be called the importunities of its grati- tude. But to preferve and to increafe his efteem, is an interefl which the greateft mind does not think unworthy of its attention. And this is the founda- tion of what I formerly obferved, that when we cannot enter into the motives of our benefactor, when his conduct and character appear unworthy of our approbation, let his fervices have been ever fo great, our gratitude is always fenfibly diminifhed. We are lefs flattered by the diftinction ; and to pre- ferve the efteem of fo weak, or fo worthlefs a pa- tron, feems to be an object which does not deferve to be purfued for its own fake.
The object, on the contrary, which refentment is chiefly intent upon, is not fo much to make our enemy feel pain in his turn, as to make him con- fcious that he feels it upon account of his paft con- duct, to make him repent of that conduct, and to make him fenfible, that the perfon whom he injur- ed did not deferve to be treated in that manner. What chiefly enrages us againfl the man who in- jures or infults us, is the little account which he feems to make of us, the unreafonable preference which he gives to himfelf above us, and that abfurd felf-love, by which he feems to imagine, that other people may be facrificed at any time, to his conve- niency or his humour. The glaring impropriety of this conduct, the grofs infolence and injuftice which it feems to involve in it, often (hock and exafperate us more than all the mifchief which we have fuffered.
L 4 To
152 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II. r
To bring him back to a more juft fenfe of what is due to other people, to make him fenfible of what he owes us, and of the wrong that he has done to us, is frequently the principal end propofed in our revenge, which is always imperfect when it cannot accomplim this. When our enemy appears to have done us no injury, when we are fenfible that he acl- ed quite properly, that, in his fituation, we mould have done the fame thing, and that we deferved from him all the mifchief we met with; in that cafe, if we have the leaft fpark either of candour or juftice, we can entertain no fort of refentment.
Before any thing, therefore, can be the complete and proper object, either of gratitude or refent- ment, it muft poffefs three different qualifications. Firfi:, it muft be the caufe of pleafure in the one cafe, and of pain in the other. Secondly, it muft be ca- pable of feeling thofe fenfations. And, thirdly, it mull not only have produced thofe fenfations, but it muft have produced them from defign, and from a defign that is approved of in the one cafe, and difapproved of in the other. It is by the firft quali- fication, that any object is capable of exciting thofe pailions : it is by the fecond, that it is in any refpect capable of gratifying them : the third qualification is both neceffary for their complete fatisfaction, and as it gives a pleafure or pain that is both exquifite and peculiar, it is likewife an additional exciting caufe of thofe paflionsf
As what .gives pleafure or pain, therefore, either in one way or another, is the fole exciting caufe of gratitude and refentment ; though the intentions of any perfon fhould be ever fo proper and benefi- cent.
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 153
cent, on the one hand, or ever fo improper and ma- levolent on the other -, yet, if he has failed in pro- ducing either the good or evil which he intended, as one of the exciting caufes is wanting in both cafes, lefs gratitude feems due to him in the one, and lefs refentment in the other. And, on the contrary, though in the intentions of any perfon, there was either no laudable degree of benevolence on the one .hand, or no blamable degree of malice on the other j yet, if his actions mould produce either great good or great evil, as one of the exciting caufes takes place upon both thefe occafions, fome gratitude is apt to arife towards him in the one, and fome re- fentment in the other. A fhadow of merit feems to fall upon him in the firft, a fhadow of demerit in the fecond. And, as the confequences of a&ions are al- together under the empire of Fortune, hence arifes her influence upon the fentiments of mankind, with regard to merit and demerit.
CHAP.
i54 0/ Merit ^Demerit. Part II.
CHAP. II.
Of the extent of this influence of fortune.
IHE effect of this influence of fortune is, firfl, to diminifh our fenfe of the merit or dement of thofe actions which aroie from the mofl laudable or blam- able intentions, when they fail of producing their propofed effects : and, fecondly, to encreafe our fenfe of the merit or demerit of actions, beyond what is due to the motives or affections from which they proceed, when they accidentally give occafion either to extraordinary pleafure or pain.
p I. Firfl, I fay, though the intentions of any perfon mould be ever fo proper and beneficent, on the one hand, or ever fo improper and malevolent, on the other, yet, if they fail in producing their effects, his merit feems imperfect in the one cafe, and his demerit incomplete in the other. Nor is this irregu- larity of fentiment felt only by thofe who are imme^ diately affected by the confequences of any action. It is felt, in fome meafure, even by the impartial fpectator. The man who folicits an office for ano- ther, without obtaining it, is regarded as his friend, and feems to defer ve his love and affection. But the man who not "only folicits, but procures it, is more peculiarly confidered as his patron and- benefactor, and is entitled to his refpect and gratitude. The perfon obliged, we are apt to think, may with fome x jufYice,
Sect. 3. Gf Merit and Demerit. 155
juftice, imagine himfelf on a level with the firft : but we cannot enter into his fentiments, if he does not feel himfelf inferior to the fecond. It is com- mon indeed to fay, that we are equally obliged to the man who has endeavoured to ierve us, as to him who actually did fo. It is the fpeech which we conflantly make upon every unfuccefsful attempt of this kind ; but wtych, like all other fine fpeeches, muft be underftood with a grain of allowance. The fentiments which a man of generofity entertains for the friend who fails, may often indeed be nearly the fame with thofe which he conceives for him who iucceeds : and the more generous he is, the more nearly will thofe fentiments approach to an exact level. With the truly generous, to be beloved, to be eiteemed by thofe whom they themfelves think worthy of efteem, gives more pleafure, and thereby excites more gratitude, than all the advantages which they can ever expect from thofe fentiments. When they lofe thofe advantages therefore, they feem to lofe but a trifle, which is fcarce worth re- garding. They flill however lofe fomething. Their pleafure therefore, and confequently their gratitude, is not perfectly complete : and accordingly if, be- tween the friend who fails and the friend who fuc- ceeds, all other circumftances are equal, there will, even in the nobleft and the bell mind, be fome little difference of affection in favour of him who fuc- ceeds. Nay, fo unjuil are mankind in this rcfped, that though the intended benefit mould be procured, yet if it is not procured by the means of a particular benefactor, they are apt to think that lefs gratitude is due to the man, who with the beft intentions in the world could do no more than help it a little for- ward. As their gratitude is in this cafe divided
among
156 Of Merit and Demerit. Partll.
among the different perfons who contributed to their pieafure, a fmaller (hare of itfeems due to any one. Such a perfon, we hear men commonly fay, intended no doubt to ferve us -, and we really be- lieve exerted himfelf to the utmoft of his abilities for that purpofe. We are not, however, obliged to him for this benefit ; fince had it not been for the concurrence of others, all that he could have done would never have brought it about. This confide- ration, they imagine, mould, even in the eyes of the impartial fpectator, diminifh the debt which they owe to him. The perfon himfelf who has unfuccefs- fully endeavoured to confer a benefit, has by no means the fame dependency upon the gratitude of the man whom he meant to oblige, nor the fame fenfe of his own merit tov/ards him, which he would have had in the cafe of fuccefs.
Even the merit of talents and abilities which fome accident has hindered from producing Meir effects, feems in fome meafure imperfect, even to thofe who are fully convinced of their capacity to produce them. The general who has been hindered by the envy of miniflers from gaining fome great advan- tage over the enemies of his country, regrets the lofs of the opportunity for ever after. Nor is it only upon account of the public that he regrets it. He laments that he was hindered from performing an action which would have added a new luftre to his character in his own eyes, as well as in thofe of every other perfpn. It fatisfies neither himfelf nor others to reflect that the plan or defign was all that depended on him, that no greater capacity was re- quired to execute it than what was necelfary to con- cert it : that he was avowed to be every way capa- ble
Seel. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 157
ble of executing it, and that had he been permitted to go on, fuccefs was infallible. He ftill did not execute it ; and though he might deferve all the ap- probation which is due to a magnanimous and great deiign, he ftill wanted the actual merit of having performed a great action. To take the management of any affair of public concern from the man who has almofl brought it to a conclufion, is regarded as the moft invidious injuftice. As he had done fomuch, he mould, we think, have been allowed to acquire the complete merit of putting an end to it. It was objected to Pompey, that he came in upon the victo- ries of Lucullus, and gathered thofe laurels which were due to the fortune and valour of another. The glory of Lucullus, it feems, was lefs complete even in the opinion of his own friends, when he was not permitted to finiih that conquelt which his conduct and courage had put in the power of almofl any man to finifh. it mortifies an architect when his plans are either not executed at all, or when they are fo far al- tered as to fpoil the effect of the building. The plan, however, is all that depends upon the architect. The whole of his genius is, to good judges, as complete- ly difcovered in that as in the actual execution. But a plan does not, even to the mod intelligent, give the fame pleafure as a noble and magnificent build- ing. They may difcover as much both of tafte and genius in the one as in the other. But their effects are ftill vaftly different, and the amufement derived from the fir/ft, never approaches to the wonder and admiration which are fometimes excited by the fe- cond. We may believe of many men, that their talents are fuperior to thofe of Caefar and Alexander ; and that in the fame fituations they would perform ftill greater actions. In the mean time, however,
we
158 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
we do not behold them with that aftonifnment and admiration with whidh thofe two heroes have been regarded in all ages and nations. The calm judg- ments of the mind may approve of them more, but they want the fplendor of great actions to dazzle and tranfport it. The fuperiority of virtues and talents have not, even upon thole who acknowledge that fuperiority, the fame effect with the fuperiority of atchievements.
As the merit of an unfuccefsful attempt to do good feems thus, m the eyes of ungrateful mankind, to be diminifhed by the mifcarriage, fo does like- wife the demerit of an unfuccefsful attempt to do evil. The defign to commit a crime, how clearly foever it may be proved, is fcarce ever punifhed with the fame feverity as the actual commiflion of it. The cafe of treafon is perhaps the only exception. That crime immediately affecting the being of the govern- ment itfelf, the government is naturally more jealous of it than of any other. In the punifhment of trea- fon, the fovereign refents the injuries which are im- mediately done to hirhfelf : in the puniftiment of other crimes, he refents thofe which are done to other men. It is his own refentment which he indulges in the one cafe : it is that of his fubjects which by f\mpathy he enters into it in the other. In the hi ft cafe, therefore, as he judges in his own caufe, he is very apt to be more violent and fanguinary in his punifhments than the impartial fpectator can ap- | >i (;v c of. His refentment too rifes here upon fmaller occafions, and does not always, as in other cafes, wait for the perpetration of the crime, or even for the attempt to commit it. A treafonable concert, though nothing has been done, or even attempted in 6 nfequenceof it, nay, a treafonable converfation,
is
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 159
is in many countries punilhed in the fame manner as the actual commiirion of treafon. With regard to all other crimes, the mere defign, upon which no attempt has followed, is feldom punilhed at all, and is never punilhed feverely. A criminal defign, and a criminal aclion, it may be faid indeed, do not ne- ceMarily fuppofe the fame degree of depravity, and ought not therefore to be fubjedted to the fame pu- nifhment. We are capable, it may belaid, ofre- folving, and even of taking meafures to execute, many things which, when it comes to the point, we feel ourfelves altogether incapable of executing. Bat this reafon can have no place when the de- fign has been carried the length of the lad attempt. The man, however, who fires a piftol at his enemy, but miffes him, is punidied with death by the laws of fcarce any country. By the old law of Scotland, though he mould wound him, yet, unlefs death en- fues within a certain time, the allanm is not liable to the laft punifhment, The refentment of mankind, ' however, runs fo high againfl this crime, their terror for the man who mows himfelf capable of commit- ting it, is fo great, that the mere attempt to commit it ought in all countries to be capital. The attempt to commit fmaller crimes is almoft always punilhed very lightly, and fometimes is not punilhed at all. The thief, whofe hand has been caught in his neigh- bour's pocket^before he had taken any thing out of it, is punilhed with ignominy only. If he had got time to take away an handkerchief, he would have been put to death. The houfe-breaker, who has been found fetting a ladder to his neighbour's win- dow, but had not got into it, is notexpofed to the capital punifhment. The attempt to ravifh is not punilhed as a rape. The attempt to feduce a mar- ried
160 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
ried woman is not punifhed at all, though reduction is punifhed feverely. Our refentment againft the perfon who only attempted to do a mifchief, is fel- dom fo ftrong as to bear us out in inflicting the fame punifhment upon him, which we mould have thought due if he had actually done it. In the one cafe, the- joy of our deliverance alleviates our fenfe of the atro- city of his conduct ; in the other, the grief of our misfortune increafes it. His real demerit, however, is undoubtedly the fame in both cafes, fince his inten- tions were equally criminal : and there is in this ref- pect, therefore, an irregularity in the fentiments of all men, and a confequent relaxation of difcipline in the laws of, I believe, all nations, of the moil civiliz- ed, as well as of the mofl barbarous. Thu humani- ty of a civilized people difpofes them either to difpenfe with, or to mitigate punifhments wherever their natu- ral indignation is not goaded on by the confequences of the crime. Barbarians, on the other hand, when no actual confequence has happened from any action, are not apt to be very delicate or inquifitive about . the motives.
The perfon himfelf who either from paffion, or from the influence of bad company, has refolved? and perhaps taken meafures to perpetrate fome crime, but who has fortunately been prevented by an accident which put it out of his power, is fure, if he has any remains of conference, to regard this event all his life after as a great and fignal delive- rance. He can never think of it without returning thanks to Heaven for having been thus gracioufly pleafed to fave him from the guilt in which he was juft ready to plunge himfelf, and to hinder him from rendering all the relTbf his life a fcene of horror, re- morfe, and repentance. But though his hands are
innocent,
Sect. 3 Of Merit and Demerit. i£|
innocent, he is confcious that his heart is equally guilty as if he had actually executed what he was fo fully refolved upon. It gives great eafe to his con- fcience, however, to confider that the crime was not executed, though he knows that the failure arofe from- no virtue in him. He ftill confiders himfelf as lefs deferving of punifhment and refentment ; and this good fortune either diminifhes, or takes away altogether, all fenfe of guilt. To remember how much he was refolved upon it, has no other effect than to make him regard his efcape as the greater and more miraculous ■ for he ftill fancies that he has es- caped, and he looks back upon the danger to which his peace of mind was expo fed, with that terror, with which one who is in fafety may fometimes re- member the hazard he was in of falling over a pre- cipice, and fhudder with horror at the thought.
2. The fecond effect of this influence of fortune, is to increafe our fenfe of the merit or demerit of actions beyond what is due to the motives or affecti- on from which they proceed, when they happen to give occafion to extraordinary pleafure or pain. The agreeable or difagreeable effects of the action often throw a fhadow of merit or demerit upon the agent, though in his intention there was nothing that de- ferved either praife or blame, or atleaft that deferved them in the degree in which we are apt to beflow them. Thus, even the meflenger of bad news is difagreeable to us, and, on the contrary, we feel a fort of gratitude for the man who brings us good tidings. For a moment we look upon them both as the authors, the one of cur good, the other of our bad fortune, and regard them in fome meafure as if they had really brought about the events which
M they
i6z Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
they only give an account of. The firft author of our joy is naturally the object of a tranfit-ry grati- tude : we embrace him with warmth and affection, and mould be glad, during the inttant of our profpe- rity, to reward him as for fome fignal fervice. By the cuftom of all courts, the officer who brings the news of a victory, is entitled, to confiderable prefer- ments, and the general always chufes one of his principal favourites to go upon fo agieeable an er- rand. The firft author of our forrow is, on the con- trary, juft as naturally the object of a tranfitory re- fentment. We can fcarce avoid looking upon him with chagrin and uneafinefs ; and the rude and bru- tal are apt to vent upon him that ipleen which his in- telligence gives occalion to. Tigranes, King of Armenia, ftruck off the head of the man who brought him the firft account of the approach of a formida- ble enemy. To punifh in this manner the author of bad tidings, feems barbarous and inhuman ; yet, to reward the meflenger of good news, is not disagree- able to us i we think it fui table to the bounty of kings. But why do we make this difference, fince, if there is no fault in the one, neither is there any merit in the other ? It is becaufe any fort of reafon feems fufficient to authorize the exertion of the focial and benevolent affections -, but it requires the moft folid and fubftantial to make us enter into that of the unfocial and malevolent.
But though in general we are averfe to enter into the unfocial and malevolent affections, though we lay it down for a rule that we ought never to approve of their gratification, unlefs fo far as the malicious and unjuft intention of the perfon, againft whom they are directed Fenders him their proper object -,
yet,
Se6\. 3. Of Merit W Demerit. l6s
yet upon fome occafions, we relax of this feverity When the negligence of one man has occafioned fome unintended damage to another, we generally enter fo far into the refentment of the fufFerer as to approve of his inflicling a punimment upon the of- fender much beyond what the offence will have ap- peared to deferve, had no fuch unlucky confe- quence followed from it.
There is a degree of negligence, which would ap- pear to deferve fome chaftifement though it mould occafion no damage to any body. Thus, if a perfon fhould throw a large ftone over a wall into a public itreet without giving warning to thofe who might be pafling by, and without regarding where it was like- ly to fall, he would undoubtedly deferve fome chaf- tifement. A very accurate police would punim fo abfurd an acYion, even though it had done no mif- chief. The perfon who has been guilty of it, mows an mfolent contempt of the happinefs and fafety of others. There is real injuftice in his conduct He wantonly expofes his neighbour to what no man in his fenfes would chufe to expofe himfelf, and evident- ly wants that fenfe of what is due to his fellow-crea- tures which is the bafis of juftice and of focietv. Grofs negligence therefore is, in the law, faid to be almoft equal to malicious defign * When any un- lucky confequences happen from fuch carelefTnefs, the perfon who has been guilty of it is often punifh- ed as if he had really intended thofe confequences ; and his conduct, which was only thoughtlefs and mfolent, and what deferved fome chaftifement, is considered as atrocious, and as liable to the fevered M 2 v punim-
* Lata culpa prope dolum eft.
164 0/ Merit /z;^ Demerit. Part II.
punifhment. Thus if, by the imprudent aftion above-mentioned, he mould accidentally kill a man, he is, by the laws of many countries, particularly by the old law of Scotland, liable to the laft punifhment. And though this is no doubt exceflively fevere, it is not altogether inconfiftent with our natural fenti- ments. Our juft indignation againft the folly and inhumanity of his conduct is exafperated by our fympathy with the unfortunate fufferer. Nothing however would appear more mocking to our natural fenfe of equity, than to bring a man to the fcaffold merely for having thrown a ftone carelefsly into the ftreet without hurting any body. The folly and in- humanity of his conduct, however, would in this cafe be the fame ; but flill our fentiments would be very different. The confederation of this difference may fatisfy us how much the indignation, even of the fpe&ator, is apt to be animated by the a&ual con- fequences of the action. In cafes of this kind there will, if I am not miftaken, be found a great degree of feverity in the laws of almofl all nations ; as I have already obferved that in thofe of an oppofite. kind there was a very general relaxation of difcipline.
There is another degree of negligence which does not involve in it any fort of injuftice. The perfon who is guilty of it treats his neighbour as he treats himfelf, means no harm to any body, and is far from entertaining any infolent contempt for the fafe- ty and happinefs of others. He is not, however, fo careful and circumfpect in his conduct as he ought to be, and deferves upon this account fome degree of blame and cenfure, but no fort of punifhment. Yet if by a negligence * of this kind he mould occafion
fome
* Culpa levis.
Sed. 3. Of Merit W Demerit. 165
fome damage to another perfon, he is by the laws of, I believe, all countries, obliged to compenfate it. And though this is no doubt a real puniihment, and what no mortal would have thought of inflicting upon him, had it not been for the unlucky accident which his conduct gave occafion to ; yet this decifion of the law is approved of by the natural fentiments of all mankind. Nothing, we think, can be more juft than that one man mould not fuffer by the care- lefTnefs of another ; and that the damage occafioned by blamable negligence fhould be made up by the perfon who was guilty of it.
There is another fpecies of negligence % which confifts merely in a want of the moil anxious timi- dity and circumfpedion, with regard to all the pofli- ble confequences of our adions. The want of this painful attention, when no bad confequences follow from it, is fo far from being regarded as blamable, that the contrary quality is rather confidered as fuch. That timid circumfpedion which is afraid of every thing, is never regarded as a virtue, but as a quality which more than any other incapacitates for adion and bufmefs. Yet when, from a want of this ex- ceffive care, a perfon happens to occafion fome da- mage to another, he is often by the law obliged to compenfate it. Thus, by the Aquilian law, the man, who not being able to manage a horfe that had acci- dentally taken fright, fhould happen to ride down his neighbour's Have, is obliged to compenfate the damage. When an accident of this kind happens, we are apt to think that he ought not to have rode fuch a horfe, and to regard his attempting it as an un- M 3 pardonable
* Culpa leviflitna.
166 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
pardonable levity ; though without this accident we mould not only have made no fuch reflection, but ihould have regarded his refufing it as the effect of timid weaknefs, and of an anxiety about merely pofhble events, which it is to no purpofe to be aware of. The perfon himfelf, who by an accident even of this kind has involuntarily hurt another, feems to have fome fenfe of his own ill defert, with regard to him. He naturally runs up to the fufferer to ex- prefs his concern for what has happened, and to make every acknowledgment in his power. If he has any fenfibility, he neceiTarily defires to compen- fate the damage, and to do every thing he can to appeafe that animal refentment, which he is fenfi- ble will be apt to arife in the breait of the fufferer. To make no apology, to offer no atonement, is re- garded as the highelt brutality. Yet why mould he make an apology more than any other perfon ? Why fhould he, fince he was equally innocent with any other by-ftander, be thus fingled out from among all mankind, to make up for the bad fortune of another ? This tafk would furely never be impof- ed upon him, did not even the impartial fpeftator feel fome indulgence for what may be regarded as the unjuft refentment of that other.
CHAP.
-•■*---i
Sect. 3. O/Merit WDemerit. 167
CHAP. III.
Of the final caufe of this irregularity of fenti- ments.
s
U C H is the effect of the good or bad confe- quence of actions upon the fentiments both of the perfon who performs them, and of others ; and thus, Fortune, which governs the world, has fome influence where we mould be leaft willing to allow her any, and directs in fome meafure the fentiments of mankind, with regard to the character and con- duel: both of themfelves and others. That the world judges by the event, and not by the defign, has been in all ages the complaint, and is the great difcou- ragement of virtue. Every body agrees to the gene- ral maxim, that as the event does not depend on the agent, it ought to have no influence upon your fenti- ments, with regard to the merit or propriety of his conduct. But when we come to particulars, we find that our fentiments are fcarce in any one in- ftance exactly conformable to what this equitable maxim would direct. The happy or unprofperous event of any action, is not only apt to give us a good or bad opinion of the prudence with which it was conducted, but almoft always too animates our gra- titude or refentment, our fenfe of the merit or de- merit of the defign.
M 4 Nature,
i68 0/ Merit and Demerit. PartH.
Nature, however, when fhe implanted the feeds of this irregularity in the human breaft, feems, as upon all other occafions, to have intended the happi- nefs and perfection of the fpecies. If the hurtfulnefs of the defign, if the malevolence of the affection, were alone the caufes which excited our refentment, we mould feel all the furies of that paflion againft any perfon in whofe breaft we fufpected or believed fuch defigns or affections were harboured, though they had never broke out into any actions. Sentiments, thoughts, intentions, would become the objects of punifhment •, and if the indignation of mankind ran as high againft them as againft actions ; if the bafe- nefs of the thought which had given birth to no acti- on, feemed in the eyes of the world as much to call aloud for vengeance as the bafenefs of the action, every court ofjudicature would become a real inqui- fition. There would be no fafety for the moft in- nocent and circumfpect conduct. Ead wifhes, bad views,bad defigns, might ftill be fufpected-, and while thefe excited the fame indignation with bad conduct, while bad intentions were as much refented as bad actions, they would equally expofe the perfon to pu- nifhment and refentment. Actions therefore which either produce actual evil, or attempt to produce it, and thereby put us in the immediate fear of it, are by the Author of nature rendered the only proper and approved objects of human punifhment and refent- ment. Sentiments, defigns, affections, though it is from thefe that according to cool reafon human actions derive their whole merit or. demerit, are placed by the great Judge of hearts beyond the li- mits of every human jurisdiction, and are referved for the cognizance ^of his own unerring tribunal.
That
Se£t. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 169
That neceflary rule ofjaftice, therefore, that men in this life are liable to punifhment for their actions only, not for their defigns and intentions, is founded upon this falutary and ufeful irregularity in human fentiments concerning merit or demerit, which at firft. fight appears fo abfurd and unaccountable. But every part of nature, when attentively furveyed, equally demonflrates the providential care of its Author, and we may admire the wifdom and good* nefs of God even in the weaknefs and folly of men.
Nor is that irregularity of fentiments altogether without its utility, by which the merit of an unfuc- cefsful attempt to ferve, and much more that of mere good inclinations and kind wifhes, appears to be im- perfect. Man was made for action, and to promote by the exertion of his faculties fiich changes in the external circumftances both of himfelf and others, as may feem moll favourable to the happi- nefs of all. He mud not be fatisfied with indolent benevolence, nor fancy himfelf the friend of man- kind, becaufe in his heart he wifhes well to the prof- perity of the world. That he may call forth the whole vigour of his foul, and llrain every nerve, in order to produce thofe ends which it is the purpofe of his being to advance, Nature has taught him, that neither himfelf nor mankind can be fully fatisfied with his conduct, nor bellow upon it the full meafure of applaufe, unlefs he has actually produced them. He is made to know, that the praife of good inten- tions, without the merit of good offices, will be but of little avail to excite either the louden1 acclamations of the world, or even the highefl degree of felf-ap- plaufe. The man who has performed no fmgle action of importance, but whole whole converfation
and
170 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
and deportment exprefs the jufteft, the nobleft, and moil generous fentiments, can be entitled to demand no very high reward, even though his inutility mould be owing to nothing but the want of an opportunity to ferve. We can it ill refufe it him without blame, We can ftill aik him, what have you done ? What actual fervice can you produce, to entitle you to fo great a recompenfe ? We eiteem you, and love you ; but we owe you nothing. To reward indeed that latent virtue which has been ufelefs only for want of an opportunity to ferve, to bellow upon it thofe honours and preferments, which, though in fome meaiureit may be faid to deferve them, it could not with propriety have infilled upon, is the effect of the molt divine benevolence. To punifh, on the con- trary, for the affections of the heart only, where no crime has been committed, is the mod infolent and barbarous tyranny. The benevolent affections feem to deferve moil praife, when they do not wait till it becomes almoit a crime for them not to exert them- felves. The malevolent, on the contrary, can fcarce be too tardy, too flow, or deliberate.
It is even of ufe that the evil which is done without defign fhould be regarded as a misfortune to the doer as well as to the fufferer. Man is thereby taught to reverence the happinefs of his brethren, to tremble left he fhould, even unknowingly, do any thing that can hurt them, and to dread that animal refentment which he feels is ready to buril out againil him, if he fhould without defign be the unhappy inilrument of their calamity.
Notwithstanding, however, all thefe feeming irre- gularities of ientim&it, if man fhould unfortunately
either
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 171
either give occafion to thofe evils which he did not intend, or fail in producing that good which he in- tended, nature has not left his innocence altogether without confolation, nor his virtue altogether with- out reward. He then calls to his afriftance that juft and equitable maxim, that thofe events which did not depend upon our conduct ought not to diminim the efteem that is due to us. He fummons up his whole magnanimity and firmnefs of foul, and ftrives to regard himfelf, not in the light in which he at prefent appears, but in that in v/hich he ought to appear, in which he would have appeared had his generous defigns been crowned with fuc- cefs, and in which he would flill appear, notwith- ftanding their mifcarriage, if the fentiments of man- kind were either altogether candid and equitable, or even perfectly confident with themfelves. The more candid and humane part of mankind entirely go along with the efforts which he thus makes to fup- port himfelf in his own opinion. They exert their whole generofity and greatn6fs of mind, to correct in themfelves this irregularity of human nature, and endeavour to regard his unfortunate magnanimity in the fame light in which, had it been fuccefsful, they would, without any fuch generous exertion, have na- turally been difpofed to confider it.
PART
PART III.
Of the foundation of our judgments con- cerning our own fentiments and conduit, and of the fenfe of duty.
CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION.
CHAP. I.
Of the confcioufnefs of merited praife or blame.
i
N the two foregoing parts of this difcourfe, I have chiefly confidered the origin and foundation of our judgments concerning the fentiments and conduct of others. I come now to confider the origin of thofe concerning our own.
The defire of the approbation and efteem of thofe we live with, which is of fuch importance to our happinefs, cannot be fully and entirely contented but by rendering ourfelves thejuft and proper objects of thofe fentiments, and by adjufling our own charac- ter and conduct according to thofe meafures and rules by which efteem and approbation are naturally bellowed. It is not fufficient, that from ignorance
or
1^4 Of /^Sense Part III,
or miilake, efleem and approbation fhould fome way or other be bellowed upon us. If we are confcious that we do not defer ve to be fo favourably thought of, and that if the truth was known, we fhould be regarded with very oppofite fentiments, our fatisfac- tion is far frorri being complete. The man who ap- plauds us either for actions which we did not per- form, or for motives which had no fort of influence upon our conduct, applauds not us, but another pei- fon. We can derive no fort of fatisfaction from his praifes. To us they fhould be more mortifying than any cenfure, and fhould perpetually call to our minds> the moil humbling of all reflections, the reflection upon what we ought to be, but what we are not. A woman who paints to conceal her uglinefs, could de- Vive, one fhould imagine, but little vanity from the compliments that are paid to her beauty. Thefe, we fhould expect, ought rather to put her in mind of the fentiments which her real complexion would ex- cite, and mortify her more by the contrail:. To be pleafed with fuch groundlefs applaufe is a proof of the moll fuperficial levity and weaknefs. It is what is properly called vanity, and is the foundation of the mofl ridiculous and contemptible vices, the vices of affectation and common lying ; follies which, if ex- perience did not teach us how common they are, one ihould imagine the leail fpark of common fenk would lave us from. The foolifh liar, who endea- vours to excite the admiration of the company by the relation of adventures which never had any ex- iilence, the important coxcomb who gives himfelf airs of rank and diilinction which he well knows he has no juft pretenfions to, are both of them, no i libt, pleafed with the applaufe which they fancy
they
Chap. i. of D u t y. 175
they meet with. But their vanity arifes from fo grofs an illufion of the imagination, that it is difficult to conceive how any rational creature mould be im- pofed upon by it. When they place themfelves in the fituation of thofe whom they fancy they have deceived, they are ftruck with the higheit admiration for their own perfons. They look upon themfelves, not in that light in which, they know, they ought to appear to their companions, but in that in which they believe their companions actually look upon them. Their fuperncial weaknefs and trivial folly hinder them from ever turning their eyes inwards, or from feeing themfelves in that defpicable point of view in which their own confciences mould tell them that they would appear to every body, if the real truth mould ever come to be known.
As ignorant and groundlefs praife can give no fo- lid joy, no fatisfaction that will bear any ferious ex- amination, fo, on the contrary, it often gives real comfort to reflect, that though no praife mould ac- tually be beftowed upon us, our conduct, however, has been fuch as to deferve it, and has been in every ref- pedt fuitable to thofe meafures and rules by which praife and approbation are naturally and commonly beftowed.Wearepleafed not only with praife, but with having done what is praife- worthy . We are pleafed to think that we have rendered ourfelves the natural objects of approbation, though no approbation, mould ever actually be beftowed upon us : and we are mortified to reflect that we have juftly incurred the blame of thofe we live with, though that fenti- xnent fhould never actually be exerted againft us.
The
176 0/ 'the S e n s e v Part III.
The man who is confcious to himfeif that he has ex- actly obferved thofe meafures of conduct which ex- perience informs him are generally agreeable, re- flects with fatisfaction on the propriety of his own behaviour -, when he views it in the light in which the impartial fpectator would view it, he thoroughly enters into all the motives which influenced it ; he looks back upon every part of it with pleafure and approbation, and though mankind mould never be acquainted with what he has done, he regards himfeif not fo much according to the light in which they actually regard him, as according to that, in which they would regard him if they were better in- formed. He anticipates the applaufe and admira- tion which in this cafe would be bellowed upon him, and he applauds and admires himfeif by fym- pathy with fentiments which do not indeed actually take place, but which the ignorance of the public alone hinders from taking place, which he knows are the natural and ordinary effects of fuch conduct, which his imagination ftrongly connects with it, and which he has acquired a habit of conceiving as fomething that naturally and in propriety ought to flow from it. Men have often voluntarily thrown away life to acquire after death a renown which they could no longer enjoy. Their imagination, in the mean time, anticipated that fame which was there- after to be bellowed upon them. Thofe applaufes which they were never to hear rung in their ears ; the thoughts of that admiration, whofe effects they were never to feel, played about their hearts, banilTi- ed from their breafts the ftrongeft of all natural fears, and tranfported them to perform actions which feem almofl beyond the reach of human nature. But in x point
Chap. i. (/Duty. 177
point of reality there is furely no great difference between that approbation which is not to be bellow- ed till we can no longer enjoy it, and that which in- deed is never to be bellowed, but which would be bellowed if the world was ever made to underftand properly the real circumllances of our behaviour. If the one often produces fuch violent effects-, we cannot wonder that the other mould always be high- ly regarded.
On the contrary, the man who has broke through all thofe meafures of conduct, which can alone ren- der him agreeable to mankind, tho' he mould have the moll perfect alfurance that what he had done was for ever to be concealed from every human eye, it is all to no purpofe. When he looks back upon it, and views it in the light in which the impartial fpec- tator would view it, he finds that he can enter into none of the motives which influenced it. He is abafhed and confounded at the thoughts of it, and necefla- rily feels a very high degree of that Ihame which he would be expofed to, if his actions mould ever come to be generally known. His imagination, in this cafe too, anticipates the contempt and derifion from which nothing faves him but the ignorance of thofe he lives with. He Hill feels that he is the natural object of thefe fentiments, and ftill trembles at the thought of what he would fufTer if they were ever ac- tually exerted againll him. But if what he had been guilty of was not merely one of thofe improprieties which are the objects of fimple difapprobation, but one of thofe enormous crimes which excite detefla- tion and refentment, he could never think of it, as long as he had any fenfibility left, without feeling all
N the
178 Of the S e n s e # PartllL
the agony of horror and remorfc ; and though he could be allured that no man was ever to know it, and could even bring himfelf to believe that there was no God to revenge it, he would ftill feel enough of both thefe fentiments to embitter the whole of his life : He would ftill regard himfelf as the natural object of the hatred and indignation of all his fellow-crea- tures ; and if his heart was not grown callous by the habit of crimes, he could not think without terror and aftonifhment even of the manner in which mankind would look upon him, of what would be the expref- fion of their countenance and of their eyes, if the dreadful truth mould ever come to be known. Thefe natural pangs of an affrighted conference are the daemons, the avenging furies which in this life haunt the guilty, which allow them neither quiet nor repofe, which often drive them to defpair and dif- traction, from which no aiTurance of fecrecy can pro- tect them, from which no principles of irreligion can entirely deliver them, and from which nothing can free them but the vileft and mod abject of all ftates, a complete infenfibility of honour and infamy, to vice and virtue. Men of the moft deteftable charac- ters, who, in the execution of the moft dreadful crimes, had taken their meafures fo coolly as to avoid even the fufpicion of guilt, have fometimes been driven, by the horror of their fituation, to difcover of their own accord, what no human fagacity could ever have inveftigated. By acknowledging their guilt, by fubmitting themfelves to the refentment of their offended citizens, and by thus fatiating that ven- geance of which they were fenfible that they were be- come the proper objects, they hoped by their death
to
Chap. I. of D U T Y. ijg
to reconcile themfelves, at leaft in their own imagi- nation, to the natural fentiments of mankind, to be able to confider themfelves as lefs worthy of hatred and refentment, to atone in fome meafure for their crimes, and, if poflible, to die in peace and with the forgivenefs of all their fellow-creatures. Compared to what they felt before the difcovery, even the thought of this, it feems, was happinefs.
Nz CHAP.
iZo Of the Sense Part III.
CHAP. II.
In what manner our own judgments refer to vjhat ought to be the judgments of others : and of the origin of ge- neral rules.
A
Great part, perhaps the greateft part, of human happinefs and mifery arifes from the view of our paft conduct, and from the degree of approbation or difapprobation which we feel from the conlideration of it. But in whatever manner it may affect us, our fentiments of this kind have always fome fecret re- ference either to what are, or to what upon a certain condition would be, or to what we imagine ought to be the fentiments of others. We examine it as we imagine an impartial ipectator would examine it. If upon placing ourfelves in his fituation we thoroughly enter into all the pailions and motives which influ- enced it, we approve of it by fympathy with the ap- probation of this fuppofed equitable judge. If other- wife, we enter into his difapprobation and condemn it.
Was it poffible that a human creature could grow up to manhood in fome folitary place without any communication with his own fpecies, he could no more think- of his own character, of the propriety or demerit of his own fentiments and conduct, of the beauty or deformity of his own mind, than of the beauty or deformity of his own face. All thefe are objects which he cannot eafily fee, which naturally he does not look at ; and with regard to which he
is
Chap. 2. of D u t y; igr
is provided with no mirror which can prefent them to his view. Bring him into fociety, and he is im- mediately provided with the mirror which he want- ed before. It is placed in the countenance and be- haviour of thofe he lives with, which always mark when they enter into, and when they difap- prove of his fentiments ; and it is here that he firft views the propriety and impropriety of his own paffions, the beauty and deformity of his own mind. To a man who from his birth was a ftran- ger to fociety, the objects of his paffions, the ex- ternal bodies which either pleafed or hurt him, would occupy his whole attention. The paffions them- felves, the defires or averfions, the joys or forrows, which thofe objects excited, though of all things the moil immediately prefent to him, could fcarce ever be the objects of his thoughts. The idea of them could never intereft him fo much as to call upon his attentive confideration. The confideration of his joy could in him excite no new joy, nor that of his forrow any new forrow, though the confider- ation of the caufes of thofe paffions might often ex- cite both. Bring him into fociety, and ail his own paffions will immediately become the caufes of new paffions. He will obferve that mankind approve of fome of them, and are difguited by others. He will be elevated in the one cafe, and call down in the other; his defires and averfions, his joys and for- rows will now often become the caufes of new de- fires and new averfions, new joys and new forrows: they will now therefore intereft him deeply, and of- ten call upon his molt attentive confideration.
Our nrft ideas of perfonal beauty and deformity, are drawn from the fhape and appearance of others ,. not from our own. We foon become fenfible, how-
N 3 ever^
1 82 O/ASense PartllL
ever, that others exercife the fame criticifm upon us. We are pleafed when they approve of our figure, and are difobliged when they feem to be difgufted. We become anxious to know how far our appear- ance defer ves either their blame or approbation. We examine our own perfons limb by limb, and by placing ourfelves before a looking-glafs, or by fome fuch expedient, endeavour, as much as poffible, to view ourfelves at the diflance and with the eyes of other people. If after this examination we are fatis- fied with our own appearance, we can more eafily fupport the moil difadvantageous judgments of others : if, on the contrary, we are fenfible that we are the natural objects of diftafte, every appearance of their difapprobation mortifies us beyond all mea- fure. A man who is tolerably handfome, will allow you to laugh at any little irregularity in his perfon ; but all fuch jokes are commonly infupportable to one who is really deformed. It is evident, however, that we are anxious about our own beauty and defor- mity only on account of its effect upon others. If we had no connexion with fociety, we mould be al- together indifferent about either.
In the fame manner our firft moral criticifms are exercifed upon the characters and conduct of other people ; and we are all very forward to obferve how each of thefe affects us. But we foon learn, that others are equally frank with regard to our own. We become anxious to know how far we deferve their ceniure or applaufe, and whether to them we mult neceffarily appear thofe agreeable or difagree- able creatures which they reprefent us. We begin upon this account to examine our own palfions and conduct, and to confider how thefe muft appear to them, by confidering how they would appear to
us
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 183
us if in their fituation. We fuppofe ourfelves the fpectator s of our own behaviour, and endeavour to imagine what effect it would, in this light, produce upon us. This is the only looking-glafs by which we can, in fome meafure, with the eyes of others, fcrutinize the propriety of our own conduct. If in this view it pleafes us, we are tolerably fatisfied. We can be more indifferent about the applaufe, and, in fome meafure, defpife the cenfure of others ■ fecure that, however mifunderftood or mifreprefented, we are the natural and proper objects of approbation, On the contrary, if we are difpleafed with it, we are often upon that very account more anxious to gain their approbation, and, provided we have not alrea- dy, as they fay, lhaken hands with infamy, we are altogether diffracted at the thoughts of their cen- fure, which then ftrikes us with double feverity.
When I endeavour to examine my own conduct, when I endeavour to pafs fentence upon it, and ei- ther to approve or condemn it, it is evident that, in all fuch cafes, I divide myfelf, as it were, into two perfons, and that I, the examiner and judge, repre- fent a different character from that other I, the per- fon whofe conduct is examined into and judged of. The firft is the fpectator, whofe fentiments with re- gard to my own conduct I endeavour to enter into, by placing myfelf in his fituation, and by confider- ing how it would appear to me when feen from that particular point of view. The fecond is the agent, the perfon whom I properly call myfelf, and of whofe conduct, under the character of a fpectator, I was endeavouring to form fome opinion. The firfl is the judge ; the fecond the pannel. But that the judge mould, in every refpect, be the fame
N 4 with
1 84 Of the Sense Part III.
with the pannel, is as impoflible, as that the caufe fhould, in every refpect, be the fame with the effect.
To be amiable and to be meritorious, that is, to deferve love and to deferve reward, are the great characters of virtue, and to be odious and punifria- ble, of vice. But all thefe characters have an imme- diate reference to the fentiments of others. Virtue is not faid to be amiable or to be meritorious, be- caufe it is the object of its own love, or of its own gratitude ; but becaufe it excites thofe fentiments in other men. The confcioufnefs that it is the object of fuch favourable regards is the fourceof that in- ward tranquillity and felf-fatisfaction with which it is naturally attended, as the fufpicion of the contra- ry gives occafion to the torments of vice. What fo great happinefs as to be beloved, and to know that we deferve to be beloved ? What fo great mifery as to be hated, and to know that we deferve to be hated ?
Man is confidered as a moral, becaufe he is re- garded as an accountable being. But an account- able being, as the word expreffes, is a being that muft give an account of its actions to fome other, and that confequently muft regulate them accord- ing to the good liking of this other. Man is ac- countable to God and his fellow-creatures. But though he is, no doubt, principally accountable to God ; in the order of time, he muft necelfarily con- ceive himfelfas accountable to his fellow-creatures, before he can form any idea of the Deity, or of the rules by which that divine being will judge of his conduct. A child furely conceives itfelf as account- able to its parents,>and ic elevated or caft down by
the
Chap. 2. of. Duty. 185
the thought of their merited approbation or difap- probation, long before it forms any idea of its ac- countablenefs to the Deity, or of the rules by which that divine being will judge of its conduct.
The great judge of the world, has, for the wifeft reafons, thought proper to interpofe, between the weak eye of human reafon, and the throne of his eternal juflice, a degree of obicurity and darknefs, which though it does not entirely cover that great tribunal from the view of mankind, yet renders the imprefllon of it faint and feeble in cumparifon of what might be expected from the grandeur and im- portance of fo mighty an object. If thofe infinite rewards and punifhitients which the Almighty has prepared for thofe who obey or tranfgrefs his will, v. ere perceived as diftinctly as we forefee the frivo- lous and temporary retaliations which we may ex- pect from one another, the weaknefs of human na- ture, altonifhed at the immenfity of objects fo little fitted to its comprehenfion, could no longer attend to the little affairs of this world ; and it is abfolutely impoflible that the bufinefs of fociety could have been carried on, if, in this refpect, there had been a fuller revelation of the intentions of Providence than that which has already been made. That men, however, might never be without a rule to direct their conduct by, nor without a judge whofe authority mould enforce its obfervation, the Author of nature has made man the immediate judge of mankind, and has, in this refpect, as in many others, created him after his own image, and ap- pointed him his vicegerent upon earth, to fuperin- tend the behaviour of his brethren. They are taught by nature to acknowledge that power and
jurifdiction
1 86 Of the Se n s e Part III.
jurisdiction which has thus been conferred upon him, and to tremble and exult according as they imagine thr.t they have either merited his cenfure, or deferved his applaufe.
But whatever may be the authority of this inferior tribunal which is continually before their eyes, if at any time it mould decide contrary to thofe princi- ples and rules, which Nature has eftablimed for re- gulating its judgments, men feel that they may ap- peal from this unjuft decifion, and call upon a fupe- rior tribunal, the tribunal eftablifhed in their own breafts, to redrefs the injuftice of this weak or par- tial judgment.
There are certain principles eftablifhed by Nature for governing our judgment concerning the conduct of thofe we live with. As long as we decide accord- ing to thofe principles, and neither applaud nor con- demn any thing which Nature has not rendered the proper object of applaufe or condemnation, nor any further than fhe has rendered it fuch, as our lentence is, in this cafe, if I may fay fo, quite agreeable to law, it is liable neither to repeal nor to correction of any kind. The perfon concerning whom we form thefe judgments, mud himfelf necerTarily approve of them. When he puts himfelf into our fituation, he cannot avoid viewing his own conduct in the very fame light in which we appear to view it. He is fenfible, that to us, and to every impartial fpectator, he muft necerTarily appear the natural and proper ob- ject: of thofe fentiments which we exprefs with regard to him. Thofe fentiments, therefore, muft necefla- rily produce their full effect upon him, and he cannot fail to conceive all the* triumph of felf-approbation
- from,
Chap. 2. of Du t y. 187
from, what appears to him, fuch merited applaufe, as well as all the horrors of fhar&e from, what, he is fenfible, is fuch deferved condemnation.
But it is otherwife, if we have either applauded or condemned him, contrary to thofe principles and rules which Nature has eftablifhed for the direction of our judgments concerning every thing of this kind. If we have either applauded or condemned him for what, when he put himfelf into ourfituation, does not appear to him to be the object either of ap- plaufe or condemnation ; as in this cafe he cannot enter into our fentiments, provided he has any con- itancy or firmnefs, he is but little affected by them, and can neither be much elevated by the favourable, nor greatly mortified by the unfavourable decifion. The applaufe of the whole world will avail but little, if our own confidence condemn us -, and the difap- probation of all mankind is not capable of oppreffmg us, when we are abfolved by the tribunal within our own breaft, and when our own mind tells us that mankind are in the wrong.
But though this tribunal within the bread be thus the fupreme arbiter of all our actions, though it can reverfe the decifions of all mankind with regard to our character and conduct, and mortify us amidfl the applaufe, or fupport us under the cenfure of the world ; yet, if we inquire into the origin of its in- ftitution, its jurisdiction we fhall find is in a great meafure derived from the authority of that very tribu- nal, whofe decifions it fo often andfojuftly reverfes.
When wefirft come into the world, from the na tural defire to pleafe, we accuftom ourfelves to con-
fider
1 88 0//fo Sense . Part III.
fider what behaviour is likely to be agreeable to every perfon we converfe wi th, to our parents, to our mas- ters, to our companions. We addreis ourfelves to individuals, and for fome time fondly purfue the im- polTible and abfurd project of gaining the good- will and approbation of every body. We are foon taught by experience, however, that this universal approbation is altogether unattainable. As foon as we come to have more important interefts to manage, we find, that by pleafmg one man, we almoft cer- tainly di-fobl;ge another, and that by humouring an individual, we may often irritate a whole people. The faireft and moil equitable conduct mull frequently obftruct the interefls, or thwart the inclinations of particular perfons, who will feldom have candour enough to enter into the propriety ofour motives, or to fee that this conduct, how difagreeable foever to them, is perfectly fui table to our fituation. In order to defend ourfelves from fuch partial judg- ments, we foon learn to fet up in our own minds a, judge between ourfelves and thofe we live with. Wc conceive ourfelves as acting in the prefence of a per- fon quite candid and equitable, of one who has no particular relation either to ourfelves, or to thofe whofe interefls are affected by our conduct, who is neither father, nor brother, nor friend either to them or to us, but is merely a man in general, an impar- tial fpectator who confiders our conduct with the fame indifference with which we regard that of other people. If, when we place ourfelves in the fituation of fuch a perfon, -our own actions appear to us under an agreeable afpect, if we feel that fuch a fpectator cannot avoid entering into all the motives which
influenced
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 189
influenced us, whatever may be the judgments of the world, we mufl ft ill be pleafed with our own beha- viour, and regard ourfelves, in fpite of the cenfure of our companions, as the juft and proper objects of approbation.
On the contrary, if the man within condemns us, the lcudeft acclamations of mankind appear but as the noife of ignorance and folly, and whenever we alTume the character of this impartial judge, we can- not avoid viewing our own actions with this diftafte and diffatisfaction. The weak, the vain, and the fri- volous, indeed, may be mortified by the mod ground- lefs cenfure, or elated by the moil abfurd applaufe. Such perfons are not accuitomed to confult the judge within concerning, the opinion which they ought to form of their own conduct. This inmate of the breaft, this abftra£t man, the reprefentative of man- kind, and fubititute of the Deity, whom Nature has conftituted the fupreme judge of all their actions, is feldom appealed to by them. They are contented with the decifion of the inferior tribunal. The ap- probation of their companions, of the particular per- fons whom they have lived and converfed with, has o-enerally been the ultimate object of all their wifhes. If they obtain this, their joy is complete ; and if they fail, they are entirely disappointed. They never think of appealing to the fuperior court. They have feldom inquired after its decifions, and are altoge- gether unacquainted with the rules and forms of its procedure. When the world injures them, there- fore, they are incapable of doing themfelves juftice, and are, in confequence, neceifarily the flaves of the
world,
i go Of the Sense . Part III.
world. But it is otherwife with the man who has, upon all cccafions, been accuftomed to have recourfe to the judge within, and to con fider, not what the world approves or difapproves of, but what appears to this impartial fpectator, the natural and proper object of approbation or difapprobation. The judg- ment of this fupreme arbiter of his conduct, is the applaufe, which he has been accuftomed principally to court, is the cenfure which he has been accuftom- ed principally to fear. Compared with this final de- cifion, the fentiments of all mankind, though not altogether indifferent, appear to be but of fmall mo- ment ; and he is incapable of being either much elevated by their favourable, or greatly deprefTed by their moll difadvantageous judgment.
It is only by consulting this judge within, that we can fee whatever relates to ourfelves in its proper fliape and dimenfions, or that we can make any pro- per comparifon between our own interefls and thofe of other men.
As to the eye of the body, objects appear great or fmall, not fo much according to their real dimenfions, as according to the nearnefs or diftance of their fitu- ation j fo do they likewife to what may be called the natural eye of the mind : and we remedy the defects of both thefe organs pretty much in the fame manner. In my prefent fituation an immenfe landfcape of lawns, and woods, and diftant mountains, feems to do no more than cover the little window which I write by, and to be out of all proportion lefs than the chamber in which I am fitting. lean form a juft comparifon between thofe great objects and the little objects around me, in no other way, than by
tran-
Chap. 2. of D u *r Y. t$t
iranfporting myfeif, at lean: in fancy, to a different ftation, from whence I can furvey both at nearly equal diflances, and thereby forrri fome judgment of their real proportions. Habit and experience have taught me to do this fb eafily and fo readily, that I am icarce fenfible that I do it •, and a man muft be, in Tome meafure, acquainted with the philofophy of vifion, before he can be thoroughly convinced, how little thofe diftant objects would appear to the eye, if the imagination, from a knowledge of, their real magnitudes, did not fwell and dilate them.
In the fame manner, to the felnfh and original pailions of human nature, the lofs or gain of a very fmall intereft of our own, appears to be of vaflly more importance, excites a much more paflionate joy or forrow, a much more ardent defire or averfion, than the greater! concern of another with whom we have no particular connexion. His interefls, as long as they are furveyed from this ftation, can never be put into the balance with our own, can never re- strain us from doing whatever may tend to promote our own, how ruinous foever to him. Before we can make any proper comparifon of thofe oppofite interefts, we muft change our pofition. We muft view them, neither from our own place, nor yet from his, neither with our own eyes nor yet with his, but from the place, and with the eyes of a third per- fon, who has no particular connexion with either, and who judges with impartiality between us. Here too, habit and experience have taught us to do this fo eafily and fo readily, that we are fcarce fenfible that we do it ; and it requires, in this cafe too, fome degree of reflection, and even of philofophy to con- vince us, how little intereft we mould take in the
greateft
lgz Of the S e n s e - Part III.
greatefl concerns of our neighbour, how little we mould be affected by whatever relates to him, if the fenfe of propriety andjuftice did not correct the otherwife natural inequality of our fentiments.
Let us fuppofe that the great empire of China, with all its myriads of inhabitants, was fuddeniy fwallowed up by an earthquake, and let us confider how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no fort of connexion with that part of the world, would be affected upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful calamity. He would, I imagine, firft of all, exprefs very flrongly his forrow for the misfortune of that unhappy people, he would make many melancholy reflections upon the precarioufnefs of human life, and the vanity of all the labours of man, which could thus be annihilated in a moment. He v/ould too, perhaps, if he was a man of fpeculation, enter into many reafonings concerning the effects which this di falter might produce upon the commerce of Europe, and the trade and bufmefs of the world in general. And when all this fine phiiofophy was over, when all thefe humane fentiments had been once fairly ex- preffed, he would purfue his bufmefs or his pleafure, take his repofe or his diverfion, with the fame eafe and tranquility, as if no fuch accident had happened. The moit frivolous difalter which could befai himfelf would occafion a more real difturbance. If he was to lofe his little finger to-morrow, he v/ould not deep to-night ; but provided he never faw them, he will fnore with the moft profound fecurity over the ruin of a hundred millions of his brethren, and the de- ftruction of that immenfe multitude feems plainly an object lefs interefting to him, than this paultiy misfortune of his owrr> To prevent therefore, this
- paultry
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 193
paultry misfortune to himfelf would a man of hurra-. ni/ty be willing to facrifice the lives of a hundred millions of his brethren, provided he had never (tQa them ? Human nature ftartles with horror at the thought, and the world, in its greateft depravity and corruption, never produced fuch a villain as could be capable of entertaining it. But what makes this difference ? When our paflive feelings are almoft al- ways fo fordid and fo felfifh, how comes it that our active principles mould often be fo generous and fo noble ? When we are always fo much more deeply affected by whatever concerns ourfelves, than by- whatever concerns other men - what is it which prompts the generous, upon all occafions, and the mean upon many, to facrifice their own intereits to the greater interefls of others ? It is not the foft power of humanity, it is not that feeble fpark of benevo- lence which Nature has lighted up in the human heart, that is thus capable of counteracting the ftrongeft impulfes of felf-iove. It is a ftrono-er power, a more forcible motive, which exerts itielf upon fuch occafions. It is reaion, principle, confci- ence, the inhabitant of the breaft, the man within the great judge and arbiter of our conduct. It is he who, whenever we are about to act fo as to affect the happinefs of others, calls to us with a voice capable of aftonifhing the moll prefumptuous of our paflions, that we are but one of the multitude, in no refpect better than any other in it ; and that when we prefer ourfelves fo fhamefully and fo blindly to others, we become the proper objects of refentment, abhor- rence, and execration. It is from him only that we learn the real littlenefs of ourfelves, and of whatever relates to ourfelves, and the natural mifreprefentati- onsof felf-love can be corrected only by the eye of
O this
194 Of rfje Sense Tart III.
this impartial fpectator. It is he who mows us the propriety of generofity and the deformity of in- justice ; the propriety of refigning the greatefl in- terefts of our own, for the yet greater interefts of others, and the deformity of doing the fmalleft injury to another, in order to obtain the greatefl benefit to ourfelves. It is not the love of our neighbour, it is not the love of mankind, which upon many occafions prompts us to the practice of thofe divine virtues. It is a ftronger love, a more powerful affection which generally takes place upon fuch occafions, the love of what is honourable and noble, of the grandeur, and dignity, and Superiority of our own characters.
When the happinefs or mifery of others depends in any refpect upon our conduct, we dare not, as felf-love would fuggeft to us, prefer any little intereft of our own, to the"yet greater intereft of our neigh- bour. We feel that we mould become the proper ob- jects of the refentment and indignation of our bre- thren, and the fenfe of the impropriety of this affec- tion is fupported and enlivened by the yet ftronger fenfe of the demerit of the action, which it would in this cafe give occafion to. But when the happinefs or mifery of others in no refpect depends upon our conduct, when our own interefts are altogether fepa- rated and detached from theirs, fo that there is nei- ther connexion nor competition between them, as the fenfe of demerit does not in this cafe interpofe, the mere fenfe of impropriety is feldom able to re- ftrain us from abandoning ourfelves to our natural anxiety about our own affairs, and to our natural in- difference about thofe of other men. The moil vul- gar education teaches us to act, upon all important occafions, with iome fort of impartiality between
ourfelves
Chap. 2. of D u t y.
ourfelves and others, and even the ordinary com merce of the world is capable of adjufting our active principles to fome degree of propriety. But it is the mod artificial and refined education only, which pretends to correct the inequalities of our paffive feehngs, and we mult for this purpofe have recourfe to the fevereft, as well as to the profoundeft philofo- phy.
Two different fets of phi lofophers have attempted to teach us this harden: of all the lefTons of morality. One fet have laboured to increafe our fenfibiiityto the interefts of others • another to diminim that to our own. The firft would have us feel for others as we naturally feel for ourfelves. The fecond would have us feel for ourfelves, as we naturally feel for others.
The full are thofe melancholy moralifts, who are perpetually reproaching us with our happinefs, while fo many of our brethren are in mifery, * who regard as impious the natural joy of profperity, which does not think of the many wretches that are at every in- ftant labouring under all forts of calamities, in the languor of poverty, in the agony of difeafe, in the horrors of death, under the infults and oppreilion of their enemies. Commiferation for thofe miferies which we never faw, which we never heard of, but which we may be allured are at all times infeiting fuch numbers of our fellow-creatures, ought, they think, to damp the pleafures of the fortunate, and to render a certain melancholy dejection habitual to all men. But firft of all, this extreme fyrnpathy with
O 2 misfortunes,
* See Thomfon's Seafons, Winter : " Ah ! little think the gay licentious proud," &c. See al fo Pafcal.
196 Of the Sens i Part III.
misfortunes, which we know nothing about, feems altogether abfurd and unreafonable. Take the whole earth at an average, for one man who iiifTers pain or mifery, you will find twenty in profperity and joy, or at lead in tolerable circumftances. No reafon, furely, can be afligned why we mould rather weep with the one than rejoice with the twenty. This artificial commiferation, befides, is not only abfurd, but feems altogether unattainable ; and thofe who afTeft this character have commonly nothing but a certain hypocritical fadnefs, which, without reaching the heart, ferves only to render the countenance and converfation impertinently difmal and difagreeabie. And laft of all, this difpofition of mind, though it could be attained, would be perfectly ufelefs, and could ferve no other purpofe than to render miferabte the perfon who was pofTefled of it. Whatever in- tereft we take in the fortune of thofe with whom we have no acquaintance or connexion, and who are placed altogether out of the fphere of our activity, can produce only anxiety to ourfelves, without any manner of advantage to them. To what purpofe mould we trouble ourfelves about the world in the moon ? All men, even thofe at the greatefl diftance, are no doubt entitled to our good wifhes, and our good wifhes we naturally give them. But if, not- withstanding, they mould be unfortunate, to give ourfelves any anxiety upon that account, feems to be no part of our duty. That we mould be but little interefted, therefore, in the fortune of thofe whom we can neither ferve nor hurt, and who are in every refpedt, fo very remote from us, feems wifely ordered by nature ; and if it were poffible to alter in this refpe& the original conftitutiori of our frame, we could yet gain nothing by the change.
Among
Chap. 2. of D U T Y. . ipy
Among the moralifts who endeavour to correct the natural inequality of our paflive feelings by di- mini filing our fenfibility to what peculiarly concerns ourfelves, we may count all the ancient fedts of phi- lofophers, but particularly the ancient ftoics. Man, according to the ftoics, ought to regard himfelf, not as iomething feparated and detached, but as a citi- zen of the world, a member of the vaft common- wealth of nature. To the intereft of this great com- munity, he ought at all times to be willing that his own little intereil mould be facrificed. Whatever concerns himfelf, ought to affect him no more than whatever concerns any other equally important part of this immenfe fyftem. We mould view ourfelves, not in the light in which our own felfifh paflions are apt to place us, but in the light in which any other citizen of the world would view us. What befalls ourfelves we iliould regard as what befalls our neigh- bour, or, what comes to the fame thing, as our neighbour regards what befalls us. " When our " neighbour," fays Epidtetus, " lofes his wife or his " fon, there is nobody who is not fenfible that this is a " human calamity, a natural event altogether, accord- 91 ing to the ordinary courfe of things : but when " the fame thing happens to ourfelves, then we cry tc out, as if we had fuffered the moft dreadful misfor- M tune. We ought, however, to remember how " we were affedted when this accident happened to " another, and fuch as we were in his cafe, fuch " ought we to be in our own." How diffi- cult foever it may be to attain this fupreme degree of magnanimity and firmnefs, it is by no means ei- ther abfurd or ufelefs to attempt it. Though few men have the floical idea of what this perfect pro- priety requires, yet all men endeavour in fome mea-
O 3 toe
198 Of the Sense Part ill,
lure to command themfelves, and to bring down their feliifh paflions to fomething which their neigh- bour can go along with. But this can never be done Co effectually as by viewing whatever befalls them- felves in the light in which their neighbours are apt to view it. The floical philofophy, in this refpect, does little more than unfold our natural ideas of perfection. There is nothing abfurd or improper, therefore, in aiming at this perfect felf-command. Neither would the attainment of it be ufelefs, but, on the contrary, the moft advantageous of all things, as eitablifning our happinefs upon the moft folid and fecure foundation, a firm confidence in that wifdom and juftice which governs the world, and an entire refignation of ourfelves, and of whatever relates to ourfelves to the all- wife difpofal of this ruling prin- ciple in nature.
It fcarce ever happens, however, that we are ca- pable of adj lifting our paflive feelings to this perfect propriety. We indulge ourfelves, and even the world indulges us, in fome degree of irregularity in this refpect. Though we mould be too much af- fected by what concerns ourfelves, and too little by what concerns other men, ) et, if we always act with impartiality between ourfelves and others, if we ne- ver actually facrifice any great intereft of others, to any little intereft of our own, we are eafily pardon- ed: and it were well, if, upon all occafions, thofe who defire to do their duty were capable of main- taining even this degree of impartiality between themfelves and others. But this is Very far from being the cafe. Even in good men, the judge with- in is often in danger of being corrupted by the vio- lence and injustice of their feltifti paflions, and is
often
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 199
often induced to make a report very different from what the real circumftances of the cafe are capable of authorizing.
There are two different occafions, upon which we examine our own conduct, and endeavour to view it in the light in which the impartial Spectator would view it. Firft, when we are about to act ; and, Se- condly, after we have acted. Our views are very partial in both cafes, but they are mofl fo, when it is of mofl importance that they fhould be otherwife.
When we are about to act, the eagernefs of paf- fion will feldom allow us to confider what we are doing with the candour of an indifferent perfon. The violent emotions which at that time agitate us, diicolour our views of things, even when we are en- deavouring to place ourfelves in the fjtuation of ano- ther, and to regard the objects that intereft us, in the light in which they will naturally appear to him. The fury of our own paflions conftantly galls us back to our own place, where every thing appears magnified and mifreprefented by felf-love. Of the manner in which thofe objects would appear to an- other, of the view which he would take of them, we can obtain, if I may fay fo, but inflantaneous glimpfes, which vanifh in a moment, and which even while they laft are not altogether juft. We cannot even for that moment divefl ourfelves entire- ly of the heat and keennefs with which our peculiar fituation infpires us, nor confider what we are about to do with the complete impartiality of an equitable judge. The paflions, upon this account, as father Jvlalebranche fays, all juftify themfelves, and feem
O 4 reasonable,
200 Of the S e n s e Part III.
reafonable, and proportioned to their objects, as long as we continue to feel them.
When the action is over, indeed, and the pafiions which prompted it have fubfided, we can enter more coolly into fentiments of the indifferent fpectator. What before interelted us, is now become almoit as indifferent to us as it always was to him, and we can now examine our own condu& with his candour and impartiality. But our judgments now are of little importance, compared to what they were before; and when they are molt feverely impartial, can com- monly produce nothing but vain regret, and un- availing repentance, without fecuring us, from the like errors for the future. It is feidom, however, that they are quite candid even in this cafe. The opinion which we entertain of our own character, depends entirely on our judgment concerning our paft conduct. It is lb difagreeable to think ill of ourfelves, that we often purpofely turn away our view from thofe circumflances which might render that judgment unfavourable. He is a bold furgeon, they fay, whofe hand does not tremble when he performs an operation upon his own perfon -9 and he is often equally bold who does not hefitate to pull off the myflerious veil of felf-delufion, which covers from his view the deformities of his own conduct. Rather than lee our own behaviour under fo difagree- able an afpect, we too often, fooliinly and weakly, endeavour to exafperate anew thofe unjurt pailions which had formerly milled us ; we endeavour by ar- tifice to awaken our old hatreds, and irritate afrefh our almoil forgotten refentments ; we even exert ourfelves for this miferable purpofe, and thus per- fevere in injuftice, merely becaufe we once were tin-
juft,
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 201
juft, and becaufe we are afhamed and afraid to fee that we were fo.
So partial are the views of mankind with regard to the propriety of their own conduct, both at the time of action and after it • and fo difficult is it for them to view it in the light in which any indifferent fpectator would confider it. But if it was by a pe- culiar faculty, fuch as the moral fenfe is fuppofed to be, that they judged of their own conduct, if they were endued with a particular power of perception, which diftinguifhed the beauty or deformity of paf- fions and affections ; as their own paffions would be more immediately expofed to the view of this fa- culty, it would judge with more accuracy concern- ing them, than concerning thofe of other men, of which it had only a more diflant profpect.
This felf-deceit, this fatal weaknefs of mankind, is the fource of half the diforders of human life. If we faw ourfelves in the light in which others fee us, or in which they would fee us if they knew all, a re- formation would generally be unavoidable. We could not otherwife endure the fight.
Nature, however, has not left this weaknefs, which is of fo much importance, altogether without a re- medy • nor has fhe abandoned us entirely to the de- lufions of felf-love. Our continual obfervations up- on the conduct of others, infenfibly lead us to form to ourfelves certain general rules concerning what is fit and proper either to be done or to be avoided, Some of their actions mock all our natural fenti- ments. We hear every body about us exprefs the like deteftation againft them. This flill further con- firms, and even exafperates our natural {en(e of
their
202 Of the S e n s e Part Ilf.
their deformity. It fatisfies us that we view them in the proper light, when we fee other people view them in the fame light. We refolve never to be guilty of the like, nor ever, upon any account, to render ourfelves in this manner the objects of uni^- verfal difapprobation We thus naturally lay down to ourfelves a general rule, that all fuch actions are to be avoided, as tending to render us odious, con- temptible, or punifhable, the objects of all thofe fentiments for which we have the grcatefl dread and averfion. Other actions, on the contrary, call forth our approbation, and we hear every body around us exprefs the fame favourable opinion concerning them. Every body is eager to honour and reward them. They excite all thofe fentiments for which we have by nature the flrongefl defire $ the love, the gratitude, the admiration of mankind. We become ambitious of performing the like ; and thus naturally lay down to ourfelves a rule of another kind, that every opportunity of acting in this manner is care-? fully to be fought after.
It is thus that the general rules of morality are formed. They are ultimately founded upon expe- rience of what, in particular inftances, our moral fa- culties, our natural fenfe of merit and propriety, approve, or difapprove of. We do not originally approve or condemn particular actions •, becaufe, up- on examination, they appear to be agreeable or in- confiftent with a certain general rule. The general rule, on the contrary, is formed by finding from ex- perience, that all actions of a certain kind, or cir- cumftanced in a certain manner, are approved or difapproved of. To the man who firft faw an in- human murder, committed from avarice, envy, or
unjuft
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 203
imjuft refentment, and upon one too that loved and trufted the murderer, who beheld' the laft agonies of the dying perfon, who heard him, with his expiring breath, complain more of the perfidy and ingrati- tude of his falfe friend, than of the violence which had been done to him, there could be no occafion, in order to conceive how horrible fuch an action was, that he mould reflect, that one of the moft facred rules of conduct was what prohibited the taking away the life of an innocent perfon, that this was a plain violation of that rule, and confequently a very blamable a&ion. His deteftation of this crime, it is evident, would arife inilantaneouily and antece- dent to his having formed to himfelf any fuch ge- neral rule. The general rule, on the contrary, which he might afterwards form, would be founded upon the deteflation which he felt neceifarily arife in his own breaft, at the thought of this, and every other particular action of the fame kind.
When we read in hillory or romance, the account of actions either of generofity or of bafenefs, the ad- miration which we conceive for the one, and the contempt which we feel for the other, neither of them arife from reflecting that there are certain general rules which declare all actions of the one kind admirable, and all actions of the other con- temptible. Thofe general rules, on the contrary, are all formed from the experience we have had of the effects which actions of all different kinds natu- rally produce upon us.
An amiable action, a refpectable adion, an hor- rid action, are all of them actions which naturally excite the love, the refpect, or the horror of the
fpectator.
204 Of the Sense Part III.
fpectator, for the perfon who performs them. The general rules which determine what actions are, and what are not, the objects of each of thofe fenti- ments, can be formed no other way than by observ- ing what actions actually and in fact excite them.
When thefe general rules, indeed, have been formed, when they are univerfally acknowledged and eflablifhed, by the concurring fentiments of mankind, we frequently appeal to them as to the ftandards of judgment, in debating concerning the degree of praife or blame that is due to certain ac- tions of a complicated and dubious nature. They are upon thefe occafions commonly cited as the ulti- mate foundations of what is juft and unjufl in hu- man conduct ; and this circumitance feems to have milled feveral very eminent authors, to draw up their fyflems in fuch a manner, as if they had fup- pofed that the original judgments of mankind with regard to right and wrong, were formed like the decifions of a court of judicatory, by confidering firfl the general rule, and then, fecondly, whether the particular action under confideration fell properly within its comprehenfion.
Thofe general rules of conduct, when they have been fixed in our mind by habitual reflection, are of great ufe in correcting mifreprefentations of felf-love concerning what is fit and proper to be done in our particular fituation. The man of furious refentment, if he was to liflen to the dictates of that paflion, would perhaps regard the death of his enemy, as but a fmall compenfation for the wrong, he imagines, he has recehed ; which, however, may be no more than a very flight provocation. But his obfervations
upon
Chap. z. , of D u t y. 205
upon the conduct of others, have taught him how horrible all fuch fanguinary revenges appear. Un~ lefs his education has been very lingular, he has laid it down to himfelf as an inviolable rule, to abftain from them upon all occafions. This rule preferves its .authority with him, and renders him incapable of being guilty of fuch a violence. Yet the fury of his own temper may be fuch, that had this been the mil time in which he confidered fuch an action, he would undoubtedly have determined it to be quite juft and proper, and what every impartial fpectator would approve of. But that reverence for the rule which paft experience has impreffed upon him, checks the impetuofity of his paflion, and helps him to cor- rect the too partial views which felf-love might other wife fugged, of what was proper to be done in his fituation. If he fhould allow himfelf to be fo far tranfported by paflion as to violate this rule, yet even in this cafe, he cannot throw off altogether the awe and refpect with which he has been accuf- tomed to regard it. At the very time of acting, at the moment in which paflion mounts the higheft, he hefitates and trembles at the thought of what he is about to do : he is fecretly confcious to himfelf that he is breaking through thofe meafures of conduct, which, in all his cool hours, he had refolved never to infringe, which he had never feen infringed by others without the higheft difapprobation, and of which the infringement, his own mind forebodes, mult foon render him the object of the fame dif- agreeable fentiments. Before he can take the laft fatal refolution, he is tormented with all the agonies of doubt and uncertainty ; he is terrified at the thought of violating fo facred a rule, and at the fame time is urged and goaded on by the fury of his de- fires
206 Of the S e n s e Fart III.
fires to violate it. He changes his purpofe every moment ; fometimes he refolves to adhere to his principle, and not indulge a paflion which may cor- rupt the remaining part of his life with the horrors of fhame and repentance; and a momentary calm takes pofleflion of his breaft, from the profpeft of that fecurity and tranquillity which he will enjoy when he thus determines not to expofe himfelf to the hazard of a contrary conduct. But immediately the paffion roufes anew, and with frefh fury drives him on to commit what he had the inflant before re- folved to abftain from. Wearied and diftradted with thcfe continual irrefolutions, he at length, from a fort of defpair, makes the lafl fatal and ir- recoverable ftep ; but with that terror and amaze- ment with which one flying from an enemy, throws himfelf over a precipice, where he is fure of meet- ing with more certain deftruclion than from any thing that purfues him from behind. Such are his fentiments even at the time of acting ; though he is then, no doubt, lefs fenfible of the impropriety of his own conduct than afterwards, when his painon being gratified and palled, he begins to view what he has done in the light in which others are apt to view it ; and actually feels, what he had only fore- feen very imperfectly before, the flings of remorfe and repentance begin to agitate and torment him.
C H A P.
Chap. 3, of D u 1 y. 207
CHAP. III.
Of the influence and authority of the general rules of mo- rality, and that they are juftly regarded as the laws of the Deity.
1 HE regard to thofe general rules of conduct, is what is properly called a tenfe of duty, a prin- ciple of the greatefl confequence in human life, and the only principle by which the bulk of mankind are capable of directing their adions. Many men be- have very decently, and through the whole of their lives avoid any conliderable degree of blame, who yet, perhaps, never felt the fentiment upon the propriety of which we found our approbation of their conduct, but acted merely from a regard to what they faw were the eftablifhed rules of beha- viour. The man who has received great benefits from another perfon, may, by the natural coldnefs of his temper, feel but a very fmall degree of the fenti- ment of gratitude. If he has been virtuoufly educated, however, he will often have been made to obferve how odious thofe actions appear which denote a want of this fentiment, and how amiable the con- trary. Tho' his heart therefore is not warmed with any grateful affection, he will ftrive to act as if it was, and will endeavour to pay all thofe regards and attentions to his patron which the livelieft gra- titude
208 Of the Sense Part III.
titude could fuggeft. He will vifit him regularly ; he will behave to him refpedtfully ; he will never talk of him but with expreilions of the higheft ef- teem, and of the many obligations which he owes to him. And what is more, he will carefully em- brace every opportunity of making a proper return for pad fervices. He may do all this too without any hypocrify or blamable diiTimulation, without any felfiiTi intention of obtaining new favours, and without any defign of impofing either upon his be- nefactor or the public. The motive of his actions may be no other than a reverence for the. edabli (Tied rule of duty, a ferious and earned defire of acting, in every refpecl, according to the law of gratitude. A wife, in the fame manner, may iometimes not feel that tender regard for her hufband which is fuit- able to the relation that fubfifls between them. If ihe has been virtuoufly educated, however, ihe will endeavour to adt as if fhe felt it, to be careful, of- ficious, faithful, aid fmcere, and to be deficient in none of thofe attentions which the fentiment of con- jugal affection could have prompted her to perform. Such a friend, and fuch a wife, are neither of them, undoubtedly, the very bell of their kinds ^ and though both of them may have the mod ferious and earned defire to fulfil every part of their duty, yet they will fail in many nice and delicate regards, they will mifs many opportunities of obliging, which they could never have overlooked if they had pof- felTed the fentiment that is proper to their fituation. Though not the very fird of their kinds, however, they are perhaps the fecond \ and if the regard to the general rules of conduct has been very drongly impreflfed upon them, neither of them will fail in any eflential part of their duty. None but thofe of
the
Chap. g. of Duty. 209
the happieft mould are capable of iuiting, with ex- act juftnefs, their fentiments and behaviour to the fmalieft difference of fituation, and of acting upon all occafions with the moll: delicate and accurate propriety. The coarfe clay of which the bulk of mankind are formed, cannot be wrought up to filch perfection. There is fcarce any man, however, who by difcipline, education, and example, may not be imprefled with a regard to general rules, as to act upon almoft every occafion with toleiable decency, and through the whole of his life avoid any confi- derable degree of blame.
Without this facred regard to general rules, there is no man whofe conduct can be much depended upon. It is this which conftitutes the mofl eiiential difference between a man of principle and honour and a worthlefs fellow. The one adheres, on all occafions, fleadily and refolutely to his maxims, and prefer ves through the whole of his life one even tenour of conduct. The other, acts varioufly and accidentally, as humujr, inclination, or intereft chance to be uppermoft. Nay, fuch are the ine- qualities of humour to which all men are fubject? that without this principle, the man who, in his cool hours, had the mofl delicate fenfibility to the pro- priety of conduct, might often be led to act ab- furdly upon the moft frivolous occafions, and when it v/as fcarce poflible to affign any ferious motive for his behaviour in this manner. Your friend makes you a vifit when you happen to be in a humour which makes it difagreeable to receive him : in your prefent mood this civility is very apt to appear an impertinent intrufion ; and if you v/ereto give way to .the views of things which at this time occur,
p though
21o Of 'the Sense Part III.
though civil in your temper, you would behave to him with coldnefs and contempt. What renders you incapable of fuch a rudenefs, is nothing but a regard to the general rules of civility and hofpitality, which prohibit it. That habitual reverence which your former experience has taught you for thefe, enables you to ad, upon all fuch occafions, with nearly equal propriety, and hinders thofe inequa- lities of temper, to which all men are fubject, from influencing your conduct in any very fenjible degree. But if without regard to thefe general rules, even the duties of politenefs, which are fo eafily obferv- ed, and which can fcarce have any ferious motive to violate, would yet be fo frequently violated, what would become of the duties of juftice, of truth, of chaftity, of fidelity, which it is often fo difficult to obferve, and which there may be fo ma- ny flrong motives to violate ? But upon the toler- able obfervance of thefe duties, depends the very exiftence of human fociety, which would crumble into nothing if mankind were not generally impref- fed with a reverence for thofe important rules of conduct.
This reverence is flill further enhanced by an opi- nion which is firfl imprefled by nature, and after- wards confirmed by feafoning and philofophy, that . thofe important rules of morality, are the commands and laws of the Deity, who will finally reward the obedient, and punifh the tranfgreiiors of their duty.
This opinion or apprehenfion, I fay* feems Brit to be imprefled by nature. Men are naturally led to afcribe to thofe myfterious beings, whatever they are, which happen^ in any countrv, to be the ob- jects
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 211
jecls of religious fear, all their own fentiments and paflions. They have no other, they can conceive no other to aferibe to them. Thofe unknown in- telligences which they imagine but fee not, mult neceflarily be formed with fome fort of refemblance to thofe intelligences of which they have experience. During the ignorance and darknefs of pagan fuper- ftition, mankind feem to have formed the ideas of their divinities with fo little delicacy, that they af- cribed to them, indifcriminately, all the paflions of human nature, thofe not excepted which do the leaft honour to our fpecies, fuch as luft, hunger, avarice, envy, revenge. They could not fail there- fore, to aferibe to thofe beings, for the excellence of whofe nature they ltill conceived the higheft ad- miration, thofe fentiments and qualities which are the great ornaments of humanity, and which feem to raife it to a refemblance of divine perfection, the love of virtue and beneficence, and the abhorrence of vice and injuftice. The man who was injured, called upon Jupiter to be witnefs of the wrong that was done to him, and could not doubt, but that di- vine being would behold it with the fame indigna- tion which would animate the meaneft of man- kind, who looked on when injuftice was committed, The man who did the injury, felt himfelf to be the proper object of deteftation and refentment of mankind ; and his natural fears led him to impute the fame fentiments to thofe awful beings, whofe prefence he could not avoid, and whofe power he could not refift. Thefe natural hopes and fears, and fufpicions, were propagated by fympathy, and confirmed by education ; and the gods were univer- fally reprefented and believed to be the rewarders of humanity and mercy, and the avengers of per-
P2 fidy
2i2 Of the S e n s e Part III.
fidy and injuftice. And thus religion, even in its rudeft form, gave a fan&ion to the rules of mora- lity, long before the age of artificial reafoning and philofophy. That the terrors of religion mould thus enforce the natural fenie of duty, was of too much importance to the happinefs of mankind, for nature to leave it dependent upon the flownefs and uncertainty of philosophical refearches.
Thefe refearches, however, when they came to take place, confirmed thofe original anticipations of nature Upon whatever we fuppofe that our moral faculties are founded, whether upon a certain modi- fication of reafon, ' upon an original inflinct, called a moral fenfe, or upon fome other principle of our nature, it cannot be doubted, that they were given us for the direction of our conduct in this life. They carry along with them the molt evident badges of this authority, which denote that they were fet up within us to be the fupreme arbiters of all our actions, to fuperintend all our fenfes, paflions, and appetites, and to judge how far each of them was either to be indulged or reflrained. Our moral faculties are by no means, as fome have pretended, upon a level in this refpecl with the other faculties and appetites of our nature, endowed with no more right to reftrain thefe lafl, than thefe lafl are to reflrain them. No other faculty or principle of action judges of any other. Love does not judge of refentment, nor refentment of love. Thofe two paflions may be oppofite to one another, but cannot, with any propriety, be faid to approve or difapprove of one another. But it is the peculiar office of thofe faculties now under our con- federation to judge, to beflow cenfure or applaufe upon all the other principles of our nature. They
may
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 213
may be confidered as a fort of fenfes of which thofe principles are the objects. Every fenfe is fupreme over its own obje&s. There is no appeal from the eye with regard to the beauty of colours, nor from the ear with regard to the harmony of founds, nor from the tafte with regard to the agreeableneis of flavours. Each of thofe fenfes judges in the laft refort of its own objecls. Whatever gratifies the tafte is fweet, whatever pleafes the eye is beautiful, whatever fooths the ear is harmonious. The very eflence of each of thofe qualities confifts in being fitted to pleafe the fenfe to which it is addreffed. It belongs to our moral faculties, in the fame manner to determine when the ear ought to be foot hed, when the eye ought to be indulged, when the tafte ought to be gratified, when and how far every other prin- ciple of our nature ought to be indulged or reftrain- ed. What is agreeable to our moral faculties, is fit, and right, and proper to be done ; the contrary wrong, unfit, and improper. The fentiments which they approve of, are graceful and unbecoming. The very words, right, wrong, fit, improper, graceful, unbecoming, mean only what pleafes or difpleafes thofe faculties.
Since thefe, therefore, were plainly intended to be the governing principles of human nature, the rules which they prefcribe, are to be regarded as the com- mands and laws of the Deity, promulgated by thofe vicegerents which he has thus fet up within us. All general rules are commonly denominated laws : thus the general rules which bodies obferve in the com- munication of motion, are called the laws of motion. But thofe general rules which our moral faculties obferve in approving or condemning whatever fenti-
p 3 ment
214 Of the S e x s £ Part III.
ment or action is fubjected to their examination, may much more juftly be denominated fuch. They have a much greater refemblance to what are properly call- ed laws, thofe general rules which the fovereign lays down to direct the conduct of his fubjects. Like them they are rules to direct the free actions of men : they are prefcribed molt furely by a lawful fuperior, and are attended to in the fanction of rewards and punifhments. Thofe vicegerents of God within us, never fail to punifn the violation of them, by the tor- ments of inward fhame, and felf-condemnation ; and on the contrary, always reward obedience with tranquillity of mind, with contentment, and felf-fa- tisfacYion.
There are innumerable other considerations which ferve to confirm the fame conclufion. The.happi- nefs of mankind, as well as of all other rational creatures, feems to have been the original pur- pofe intended by the Author of nature, when he brought them into exigence. No other end feems worthy of that fupreme wifdom and divine benig- nity which we necefTarily afcribe to him; and this opinion, which we are led to by the abltract conlider- ation of his infinite perfections, is flill more con- firmed by the examination of the works of nature, which feem all intended to promote happinefs, and to guard againft miiery. put by acting according to the dictates of our moral faculties, we necefTarily purfue the molt effectual means for promoting the happinefs of mankind, and may therefore be faid, in fome fenfe, to co-operate with the Deity, and to advance as far as in our power the plan of Provi- dence. By acting otherv, ays, on the contrary, we feem to obftrudt, In fome meafure, the fcheme which the Author of nature has eitablifhed for the
happinefs
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 215
happinefs and perfection of the world, and to de- clare ourfelves, if I may fay fo, in fome rneafure the enemies of God. Hence we are naturally encou- raged to hcpe for his extraordinary favour and re- ward in the one cafe, and to dread his vengeance and punifhment in the other.
There are befides many other reafons, and many other natural principles, which all tend to confirm and inculcate the fame falutary do&rine. If we con- fider the general rules by which external profperity and adverfity are commonly diflributed in this life, we fhall find, that notwithstanding the diforder in which all things appear to be in this world, yet even here every vjrtue naturally meets with its proper re- ward, with the recompenfe which is moft fit to en- courage and promote it ; and this too fo furely, that it requires a very extraordinary concurrence of cir- cumftances entirely to difappoint it. What is the reward moft proper for encouraging induftry, pru^ dence, and circumfpecYion ? Succefs in every fort of bufinefs. And is it poilible that in the whole of life thefe virtues (hould fail of attaining it t Wealth and external honours are their proper recompenfe, and the recompenfe which they can feldom fail of acquiring. What reward is moft proper for pro- moting the pradrice of truth, juftice, and humanity ? The confidence, the efteem, and love of thofe we live with. Humanity does not defire to be great, but to be beloved. It is not in being rich that truth and juftice would rejoice, but in being trufted and believed, recompenfes which thofe virtues muft al- moft always acquire. By fome very extraordinary and unlucky circumftance, a good man may come ro be' iufpe&ed of a crime of which he was altoge-
p 4 ther
ai 6 Of the Sense Part III.
the* Incapable, and upon that account be molt ufi- iuflly expofed for the remaining part of his life to the horror and averfion of mankind. By an acci- dent of this kind he may be laid to iofe his all, not-- w ithilanding his integrity and juftice \ in the fame manner as a cautious man, not w ithilanding his ut- mafl circumfpection, may be ruined by an earth- quake or an inundation. Accidents of the full kind, however, are perhaps fall more rare, and ftiil more contrary to the common courfe of things than thofe of the fecond -, and fill! it remains true, that the practice of truth, juftice, and humanity, is a certain and almofl infallible method of acquiring what thofe virtues chiefly aim at, the confidence and love of thofe we live with. A perfon may be very eafiiy mifreprefented with regard to a particular action; but it is fcarce poflible that he mould be fo with re- gard to the general tenor of his conduct. An inno- cent man may be believed to have done wrong : this, however, will rarely happen. On the contra- ry, the eilabhfhed opinion of the imtoeence of his manners, will often lead us to abfolve him where he has really been in the fault, notwithltanding very flrcng prefumptions. A knave, in the fame man- ner may efcape cenfure, or even meet applaufe, for a particular knavery, in which his conduct is not under flood. But no man was ever habitually fucb, without being almoft nniverfaliy known to be fo, and without being even frequently fufpecled of guilt, when he was in reality perfectly innocent. And fo far as vice and virtue can be either punifhed or rewarded by the. fentiments and opinions of man- kind, they both, according to the common courfe of things, meet e^en here with fomething more than exact and impartial juftice.
But
Chap. 3. rf D u t y. 217
But though the general rules by which profperity and adverfity are commonly distributed, when con- fidered in this cool and philosophical light, appear to be perfectly fuited to the fituation of mankind in this life, yet the) are by no means fuited to feme of our natural fentiments. Our natural love and ad- miration for fome virtues is fuch, that we mould wifli to bellow on them all forts of honours and re- wards, even thofe which we mull acknowledge to be the proper recompenfes of other qualities with which thofe virtues are not always accompanied. Our deteftation, on the contrary, for fome vices is fuch, that we lTioald defire to heap upon them even- fort of difgrace and di fatter, thofe not excepted which are the natural confequences of very different qualities. Magnanimity, generofity, and juftice command fo high a degree of admiration, that we defire to fee them crowned with wealth, and power, and honours of every kind, the natural confequences of prudence, induflry, and application ; qualities with which thofe virtues are not infeparably connect- ed. Fraud, falfehood, brutality, and violence, on the other hand, excite in every human bread fuch fcorn and abhorrence, that our indignation roufes to fee them poflefs thofe advantages which they may in fome fenfe be faid to have merited, by the diligence and induflry with which they are fometimes attended. The induflrious knave cultivates the foil ; the indo- lent good man leaves it uncultivated. Who ought to reap the harvefl ? Who ftarve, and who live in plenty? The natural courfe of things decides it in favour of the knave : the natural fentiments of man- kind in favour of the man of virtue. Man judges, that the good qualities of the one are greatly over-re- compenfed by thofe advantages which they tend to
procure
2i S Of the S e n s e . Part III.
procure him, and that the omiflions of the other are by far too feverely punifhed by the diftrefs which they naturally bring upon him -, and human laws, the confequences of human fentiments, forfeit the life and the eftate of the induftrious and cautious traitor, and reward, by extraordinary recompenfes, the fidelity and public fpirit of the improvident and carelefs good citizen. Thus man is by Nature di- rected to correct, in fome meafure, that cMribution of things which lhe herfelf would other wife have made. The rules which for this purpofe fhe prompts him to follow, are different from thofe which fhe herfelf obferves. She bellows upon every virtue, and upon every vice, that precife reward or punifhment which is bed fitted to encourage the one, or to re- ftrain the other. She is directed by this fole confede- ration, and pays little regard to the different degrees of merit and demerit, which they may feem to poffefs in the fentiments and paflions of man. Man, on the contrary, pays regard to this only, and would endeavour to render the date of every virtue precifely proportioned to that degree of love and efteem, and of every vice to that degree of contempt and abhor- rence, which he himfelf conceives for it. The rules which lhe follows are fit for her, thofe which he fol- lows for him : but both are calculated to promote the fame great end, the order of the world, and the per- fection and happinefs of human nature.
But though man is thus employed to alter that diftribution of things which natural events would make, if left to themfelves ; though, like the gods of the poets, he is perpetually interpofmg, by extra- ordinary means, in favour of virtue, and in oppofiti- on to vice, and like them, endeavours to turn away
the
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 219
the arrow that is aimed at the head of the righteous, but accelerates the fword of dell: ruction that is lifted up againft the wicked ; yet he is by no means able to render the fortune of either quite fui table to his own fentiments and willies. The natural courfe of things cannot be entirely controuled by the impo- tent endeavours of man : the current is too rapid and too flrong for him to flop it j and though the rules which direct it appear to have been eftabli fried for the wifeil and beft purpofes, they fometimes pro- duce effects which fhock all his natural fentiments. That a, great combination of men, ftiould prevail over a fmall one ; that thofe who engage in an en~ terpriie with fore-thought and all neceffary prepara- tion, mould prevail over fuch as oppofe them with- out any ; and that every end mould be acquired by thofe means only which Nature has eftablifhed for acquiring it, feems to be a rale not only neceffary and unavoidable in itfelf, but even ufeful and proper for roufing the induftry and attention of mankind. Yet, when, in confequence of this rule, violence and artifice prevail over fincerity and juftice, what indig- nation does it not excite in the bread of every humane fpectator ? What forrow and companion for the lurTerings of the innocent, and what furious refent- ment againft the fuccefs of the oppreffor ? We are equally grieved and enraged, at the wrong that is done, but often find it altogether out of our power to redrefs it. When we thus defpair of rinding any force upon earth which can check the triumph of injuftice, we naturally appeal to Heaven, and hope, that the great Author of our nature will himfelf exe- cute hereafter, what all the principles which he has given us for the direction of our conduct, prompt us to attempt even here -, that he will complete the
plan
220 Of the S e n s e Part III.
plan which he himfelf has thus taught us to begin ; and will, in a life to come, render to every one ac- cording to the works which he has performed in this world. And thus we are led to the belief of a future Hate, not only by the weaknelTes, by the hopes and fears of human nature, but by the nobleft and bell principles which belong to it, by the love of virtue, and by the abhorrence of vice and injuflice.
" Dees it fuit the greatnefs of God," fays the elo- quent and philofophical bifhop of Clermont, with that pailionate and exaggerating force of imaginati- on, which feems fometimes to exceed the bounds of decorum-, cc does it fuit the greatnefs of God, to *! leave the world which he has created in fo uni- " verfal a diforder ? To fee the wicked prevail al- " moil always over the juft ; the innocent dethroned " by the ufurper 3 the father become the victim of " the ambition of an unnatural fon ; the hufband " expiring under the ftroke of a barbarous and failh- ;t lefs wife ? From the height of his greatnefs ought " God to behold thofe melancholy events as a fan- ic taflical amufement, without taking any fhare in
6 them ? Becaufe he is great, fhould he be weak, " or unjuft, or barbarous ? Becaufe men are little, " ought they to be allowed either to be diilolute
c without punifhment, or virtuous without reward ? " O God ! if this is the character of your Supreme ,c Being •, if it is you whom we adore under fuch u dreadful ideas • I can no longer acknowledge you u for my father, for my protector, for the comforter "of my forrow, the fupport of my weaknefs, the *' rewarderof my fidelity. You would then be no pt more than an indolent and fantaflical tyrant, who " facrifices mankind toJiis infolent vanitv, and who
«* has.
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 221
" has brought them out of nothing, only to make " them ferve for the fport of his leifure, and of his " caprice."
When the general rules which determine the me- rit and dement of actions, come thus to be regarded, as the laws of an All-powerful Being, who watches over our conduct, and who, in a life to come, will reward the obfervance, and punifh the breach of them •, they neceiTarily acquire a new facrednefs from this confideration. That our regard to the will of the Deity, ought to be the fupreme rule of our con- duct, can be doubted of by no body who believes his exiitence. The very thought of difobedience appears to involve in it the moil (hocking improprie- ty. How vain, how abfurd would it be for man, either to oppofe or to neglect the commands that were laid upon him by Infinite Wifdom, and Infi- nite Power ! How unnatural, how impioufly un- grateful not to reverence the precepts that were pre- fcribed to him by the infinite goodnefs of his Creator, even though no punifhment was to follow their vio- lation. The fenfe of propriety too is here well fup- ported by the ilrongeft motives of felf-intereft. The idea that, however we may efcape the obferva- tion of man, or be placed above the reach of human punifhment, yet we are always acting under the eye, and expofed to the punifhment of God, the great avenger of injnflice, is a motive capable of retrain- ing the molt headftrong palTions, with thofe at lead who, by conftant reflection, have rendered it fami- liar to them.
It is in this manner that religion enforces the na- tural fenfe of duty : and hence it is, that mankind
are
222 Of the StNSE Part III.
are generally dilpofed to place great confidence in the probity of thofe who feem deeply impreiTed with religious fentiments. Such perfons, they imagine^ act under an additional tye, befides thofe which re- gulate the conduct of other men. The regard to the propriety of action as well as to reputation, the re- gard to the applaufe of his own breaft, as well as that of others, are motives which they fuppofe have the fame influence over the religious man, as over the man of the world. But the former lies under ano- ther reftraint, and never acts deliberately but as in the prefence of that Great Superior who is finally to recompenfe him according to his deeds. A greater truft isrepofed, upon this account, in the regularity and exactnefs of his conduct. And wherever the natural principles of religion are not corrupted by the factious and party zeal of fome worthlefs cabal ; wherever the firft duty which it requires, is to fulfil all the obligations of morality h wherever men are not taught to regard frivolous obfervances, as more im- mediate duties of religion, than acts of juflice and beneficence ; and to imagine, that by facrifices, and ceremonies, and vain fupplications, they can bargain with the Deity, for fraud, and perfidy, and violence, the world undoubtedly judges right in this refpect, andjuftly places a double confidence in the rectitude of the religious man's behaviour.
CHAP.
Chap. 4. of D u t y.
G H A P. IV.
In what cafes the fenfe of duty ought to he the fole princi- ple of our conducl ; and in what cafes it ought to concur with other motives.
Kj
.ELIGION affords fuch ftrong motives to the practice of virtue, and guards us by fuch powerful reftraints from the temptations of vice, that many have been led to fuppofe, that religious principles were the fole laudable motives of action. We ought neither, they faid, to reward from grati- tude, nor punifh from refentment ; 'we ought nei- ther to protect the helplelfnefs of our children, nor afford fupport to the infirmities of our parents, from natural affe&ion. All affections for particular objects, ought to be extinguished in our breafl, and one great affection take the place of all others, the love of the Deity, the defire of rendering ourfelves agree- able to him, and of directing our conduct in every refpect according to his will. We ought not to be grateful from gratitude, we ought not to be charita- ble from humanity, we ought not to be public-fpirited from the love of our country, nor generous and juft from the love of mankind. The fole principle and motive of our conduct in the performance of all thofe different duties, ought to be a fenfe that God has
com-
224 Of the Sense Fart III.
commanded us to perform them. I lhall not at pre- fent take time to examine this opinion particularly ; I (hall only obferve, that we (hould not have expected to have found it entertained by any feci, who pro- feffed themfelves of a religion in which, as it is the firft precept to love the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our foul, and with all our ftrength, ib it is the fecond to love our neighbour as we love ourfelves ; and we love ourfelves furely for our own fakes, and not merely becaufe we are commanded to do fo. That the fen(e of duty mould be the fole principle of our conduct, is no where the precept of Chriilianily ; but that it (hould be the ruling and governing one, as philoibphy, and as, indeed, com- mon fenfe directs. It may be a queftion however, in what cafes our actions ought to arife chiefly or en- tirely from a fenfe of duty, or from a regard to gene- ral rules ; and in what cafes fome other fentiment or affection ought to concur, and have a principal in- fluence.
The decifion of this queftion, which cannot, perhaps, be given with any very great accuracy, will depend upon two different circumftances ; firft, upon the natural agreeablenefs or deformity of the fentiment or affection which would prompt us to any action independent of .all regard to general rules ; and fecondly, upon the precifion and exact nefs, or the loofenefs and inaccuracy of the general rules themfelves.
I. Firft, I fay, it will depend upon the natural agreeablenefs or deformity of the affection itfeif,how far our actions ought to arife from it, or entirely pro- ceed from a regard t*> the general rule.
All
Chap. 4.. of D u t f.
22 a
All thofe graceful and admired actions, to which the benevolent affections would prompt us, ouoht to proceed as much from the paffions themfelves, as from any regard to the general rules of conduct. A benefactor thinks himfelf but ill requited, if the" perfon upon whom he has bellowed his good offices, repays them merely from a cold fenfe of duty, and without any affection to his perfon. A hufband is diffatisfied with the moil obedient wife, when he imagines her conduct is animated by no other prin- ciple befides her regard to what the relation fne Hands in requires. Though a fon mould fail in none of the offices of filial duty, yet if he wants that af- fectionate reverence which it fo well becomes him to feel, the parent may juftly complain of his indiffer- ence. Nor could a fon be quite fatisfied with a pa- rent who, though he performed all the duties of his fituation, had nothing of that fatherly fondnefs which might have been expected from him. With regard to all fuch benevolent and focial affections, ic is agreeable to fee the fenfe of duty employed rather to reftrain than to enliven them, rather to hinder us from doing too much, than to prompt us to do what we ought. It gives us pieafure to fee a father obliged to check his own fondnefs, a friend obliged to fee bounds to his natural generohty, a perfon who has received a benefit, obliged to reftrain the too fan- guine gratitude of his own temper.
The contrary maxim takes place with regard to the malevolent and unfocial paffions. We ought to re- ward from the gratitude and generofity of our own hearts, without any reluctance, and without being obliged to reflect how great the propriety of reward- ing ; but we ought always to punifii with reluctance,
Q and
226 Of the Sense Part III.
and more from a fenfe of the propriety of punifhing than from any favage difpofition to revenge. No- thing is more graceful than the behaviour of the man who appears to refent the greatelt injuries, more from a fenfe that they deferve, and are the proper objects of refentment, than from feeling himfelf the furies of that difagreeable paffion > who, like a judge, confiders only the general rule, which determines what vengeance is due for each particular offence j who, in executing that rule, feels lefs for what him- felf has fuffered, than what the offender is about to fuffer •, who, though in wrath remembers mercy, and is difpofed to interpret the rule in the molt gentle and favourable manner, and to allow all the alleviations which the moft candid humanity could, confidently with good fenfe, admit of.
As the felfifh paflions, according to what has for- merly been obferved, hold in other refpects a fort of middle place, between the focial and unfocial affecti-' ons, fo do they likewife in this. The purfuit of the objects of private intereft, in all common, little, and ordinary cafes, ought to flow rather from a regard to the general rules which prefcribe fuch conduct, than from any pafiion for the objects themfelves ; but upon more important and extraordinary occafi- ons, we fhould be awkward, infipid, and ungrace- ful, if the objects themfelves did not appear to ani- mate us with a confiderable degree of paflion. To be anxious, or to be laying a plot either to gain or to fave a fingle fhilling, would degrade the moft vul- gar tradefman in the opinion of all his neighbours. Let his circumftances be ever fo mean, no attention to any fuch fmall matters, for the fake of the things themfelves, mull appear in his conduct. His fitu-
ation
Ghap. 4. f/D'uTV, 227
ation may require the moft fevere ceconomy, and the mod exact affiduity : but each particular exertion of that ceconomy and affiduity muft proceed not To much from a regard for that particular faving or gain, as for the general rule which to him prefcribes? with the utmoft rigour, fuch a teriour of conduct. His parfimony to-day muft not arife from a defire of the particular three-pence which he will fave by it, nor his attendance in his fhop from a paffion for the particular ten-pence which he will acquire by it : both the one and the other ought to proceed foleiy from a regard to the general rule, which prefcribes, with the moft unrelenting feverity, this plan of con- duct to all perfons in his way of life, In this con- fifts the difference between the character of a mifer, and that of a perfon of exact ceconomy and affidui- ty. The one is anxious about fmall matters for their own fake j the other attends to them only in confequence of the fcheme of life which he has laid down to himfelf.
It is quite otherwife with regard to the more ex- traordinary and important objects of felf-intereft. A perfon appears mean-fpirited, who does not pur- fue thefe with fome degree of earnefthefs for their Own fake. We mould defpife a prince who was not anxious about conquering or defending a province, We mould have little refpect for a private gentleman who did not exert himfelf to gain an eitate, or even a cohfiderable office, when lie could acquire them without either meannefs or injuftice. A member of parliament who fhews no keenneis about his own election, is abandoned by his friends, as altogether unworthy of their attachment, Even a tradefman is Q^z thought
228 Of the Sense Part III.
thought a poor-fpirited fellow among his neigh- bours, who does not beftir himfelf to get what they call an extraordinary job, or fome uncommon ad- vantage. This fpirit and keennefs conftitutes the difference between the man of enterprife and the man of dull regularity. Thofe great objects of felf-intereft, of which the lofs or acquifition quite changes the rank of the perfon, are the objects of the pailion properly called ambition ; a paflion, which when it keeps within the bounds of prudence and juftice, is always admired in the world, and has even fometimes a certain irregular greatnefs, which dazzles the imagination, when it paffes the limits of both thefe virtues, and is not only unjuft but extra- vagant. Hence the general admiration for Heroes and Conquerors, and even for Statefmen, whofe pro- jects have been very daring and extenfive, though altogether devoid of juftice-, fuch as thofe of the Cardinals of Richlieu and of Retz. The objects of avarice and ambition differ only in their greatnefs. A mifer is as furious about a halfpenny, as a man of ambition about the conqueft of a kingdom.
II. Secondly, I fay, it will depend partly upon the precifion and exactnefs, or the loofenefs and in- accuracy of the general rules themfelves, how far our conduct ought to proceed entirely from a re- gard to them.
The general rules of almoft all the virtues, the general rules which determine what are the offices of prudence, of charity, of generofity, of gratitude, of friendfhip, are in many refpects loofe and inaccu- rate, admit of many^exceptions, and require {o many modifications, that it is fcarce pollible to regulate our
conduct
Chap. 4. of D u t y. 229
conduct entirely by a regard to them. The common proverbial maxims of prudence, being founded in univerfal experience, are perhaps the belt general rules which can be given about it. To affecl, howe- ver, a very ftridt and literal adherence to them would evidently be the mod abfurd and ridiculous pedan- try. ' Of all the virtues I have juft now mentioned, gratitude is that, perhaps, of which the rules are the moft precife, and admit of the feweft exceptions. That as foon as we can we mould make a return of equal, and if poffible of fuperior value to the fer- vices we have received, would feem to be a pretty plain rule, and one which admitted of fcarce any ex- ceptions. Upon the moft fuperficial examination, however, this rule will appear to be in the highefl degree loofe and inaccurate, and to admit of ten thoufand exceptions. If your benefactor attended you in your ficknefs, ought you to attend him in his ? or can you fulfil the obligation of gratitude, by making a return of a different kind ? If you ought to attend him, how long ought you to attend him ? The fame time which he attended you, or longer, and how much longer ? If your friend lent you money in your diftrefs, ought you to lend him money in his ? How much ought you to lend him ? When ought you to lend him ? Now, or to-morrow, or next month ? And for how long a time ? It is evident, that no general rule can be laid down, by which a precife anfwer can, in all cafes, be given to any of thefe queftions. The difference between his character and yours, between his circumftances and yours, may be fuch, that you may be perfectly grateful, and juftly refufe to lend him a halfpenny : and, on the contrary, you may be willing to lend, or even to give him ten times thefum which he lent
CL 3 y°u>
> 3° Of the S e n s e Part III.
you, and yet juftly be accufed of the blacked ingra- titude, and of not having fulfilled the hundredth part of the obligation you lie under. As the duties of gratitude, however* are perhaps the mod facred of all thofe which the beneficent virtues prefcribe to us, fo the general rules which determine them are, as I faid before, the moft accurate. Thofe which afcertain the actions required by friendlhip, humani- ty, hofpitality, generality, are flill more vague and indeterminate.
There is, however, one virtue of which the gene- ral rules determine with the greater! exactnefs every external action which it requires. This virtue is juftice. The rules of juftice are accurate in the higher! degree, and admit of no exceptions or modi- fications, but fuch as may be afcertained as accurate - ]y as the rules themfelves, and which generally, in- deed, flow from the very fame principles with them. If I owe a man ten pounds, juftice requires that I fhould precifely pay him ten pounds, either at the time agreed upon, or when he demands it. What I ought to perform, how much I ought to perform, when and where I ought to perform it, the whole nature and cjrcumftances of the action prefcribed, are all of them precifely fixt and determined. Though it may be awkward and pedantic, therefore, to af- fect: too flrict an adherence to the common rules of prudence or generofity, there is no pedantry in flick- ing faft by the rules of juftice. On the contrary, the moft facred regard is due to them ; and the acti- ons which this virtue requires are never fo properly performed, as when the chief motive for perform- ing them is a reverential and religious regard to thofe general rules which require them. In the practice of
the
Chap. 4. of D u t y. 231
the other virtues, our conduct fhouid rather be directed by a certain idea of propriety, by a certain tafte for a particular tenour of conduct, than by any regard to a precife maxim or rule ; and we fhouid confider the end and foundation of the rule, more than the rule itfelf. But it is otherwife with regard to juftice: the man who in that refines the leaft, and adheres with the mod obftinate ftedfaftnefs, to the general rules themfelves, is the mod commenda- ble, and the moft to be depended upon. Though the end of the rules of juftice be, to hinder us from hurting our neighbour, it may frequently be a crime to violate them, though we could pretends with fome pretext of reafon, that this particular vio- lation could do no hurt. A man often becomes a villain the moment he begins even in his own heart, to chicane in this -manner. The moment he thinks of departing from the moft (launch and pofitive ad- herence to what thofe inviolable precepts prefcribe to him, he is no longer to be trufted, and no man can fay what degree of guilt he may not arrive at. The thief imagines he does no evil, when he fteals from the rich, what he fuppofes they may eafily want, and what poffibly they may never even know has been ftolen from them. The adulterer imagines he does no evil, when he corrupts the wife of his friend, provided he covers his intrigue from the fufpicion of the hufband, and does not difturb the peace of the family. When once we begin to give way to fuch refinements, there is no enormity fo grofs of which we may not be capa- ble.
The rules of juftice may be compared to the rules
of grammar -, the rules of the other virtues to the
Q^4 rules
232 0/ /^ Sense Part HI.
rules which criticks lay down for the attainment of what is fublirne and elegant in compofition. The one, are precife, accurate, and indifpen fable. The other, are loofe, vague, and indeterminate, and prefent us rather with a general idea of the perfecti- on we ought to aim at, than afford us any certain and infallible directions for acquiring it. A man may learn to write grammatically by rule, with the moil abfolute infallibility ; and fo, perhaps, he may be taught to act juftly. But there are no rules whofe obferyance will infallibly lead us to the attainment of elegance or fublimity in writing, though there are fome which may help us, in fome meafure, to cor- rect and aicertam the vague ideas which we might otherwife have entertained of thofe perfections : and there are no rules by the knowledge of which we can infallibly be taught to act upon all occafions with prudence, with juft magnanimity, or proper bene- ficence. Though there are fome which may enable US to correct and afcertain in feveral refpects, the imperfect id<jas which we might otherwife have en- tertained of thofe virtues.
It may fometimes happen, that with the moft fe- rious and earneft defire of acting fo as to deferve ap- probation, we may miftake the proper rules of con- duct, and thus be milled by that very principle which ought to direct us. It is in vain to expect, that in this cafe mankind mould entirely approve of our behaviour, They cannot enter into that abfurd idea of duty which influenced us, nor go along with any of the actions which follow from it. There is fYiil, however, fomething refpectable in the charac- ter and behaviour ok one who is thus betrayed into
vice,
Chap. 4- of Duty. 232
vice, by a wrong fenfe of duty, or by what is called an erroneous confcience. How fatally foever he may be milled by it, he is ftill, with the generous and humane, more the object of commiieration than of hatred or refentmenr. They lament the weak- nefs of human nature, which expofes us to fuch un- happy delufions, even while we are mod fincerely labouring after perfection, and endeavouring to act according to the bed principle which can poflibly direct us. Falfe notions of religion are almoft the only caufes which can occafion any very grofs per- verfion of our natural fentiments in this way ; and that principle which gives the greater! authority to the rules of duty, is alone capable of diftorting our ideas of them in any considerable degree. In all other cafes common knCe is fufficient to direct us, if not to the mod exquifite propriety of conduct, yet to fomething which is not very far from it-, and provided we are in earned defirous to do well, our behaviour will always, upon the whole, be praife- worthy. That to obey the will of the Deity, is the firft rule of duty, all men are agreed. But con- cerning the particular commandments which that will may impofe upon us, they differ widely from one another. In this, therefore, the greater! mu- tual forbearance and toleration is due ; and though
o
the defence of fociety requires that crimes mould be punifhed, from whatever motives they proceed, yer a good man will always puniili them with reluctance, when they evidently proceed from falfe notions of religious duty. He will never feel againft thofe who commit them that indignation which he feejs againft other criminals, but will rather regret, and fometimes even admire their unfortunate firmnefs and magnanimity, at the very time that he punifhes
their
234- Of the Sense Part III.
their crime. In the tragedy of Mahomet, one of the fined of Mr. Voltaire's, it is well reprefented, what ought to be our fentiments for crimes which pro- ceed from fuch motives. In that tragedy, two young people of different fexes, of the moft inno- cent and virtuous difpofitions, and without any other weaknefs except what endears them the more to us, a mutual fondnefs for one another, are infti- gated by the ftrongeft motives of a falfe religion, to commit a horrid murder, that fhocks all the princi- ples of human nature : a venerable old man, who had expreffed the moft tender affection for them both, for whom, notwithftanding he was the avowed enemy of their religion, they had both conceived the higheft reverence and efteem, and who was in reality their father, though they did not know him to be fuch, is pointed out to them as a facrirlce which God had exprefsly required at their hands, and they are commanded to kill him. While they are about executing this crime, they are tortured with all the agonies which can arife from the flruggle between the idea of the indifpenfablenefs of religious duty on the one fide, and companion, gratitude, reverence for the age, and love for the humanity and virtue of the perfon whom they are going to deftroy, on the other. The reprefentation of this exhibits one of the moft interefting, and perhaps the moft inftrudive fpeclacle that was ever introduced upon any theatre. The fenfe of duty, however, at laft prevails over all the amiable weakneffes of human nature. They execute the crime impoled upon them j but immedi- ately difcover their error, and the fraud which had deceived them, and are diftracted with horror, re- morfe, and refentment. Such as are our fentiments for the unhappy Seickand Palmira, fuch ought we
to
Chap. 4. of D u t y. 235
to feel for every perfon who is in this manner mifled by religion, when we are fure that it is really religion which mideads him, and not the pretence of it, which is made a cover to fome of the worft of human paffions.
As a perfon may acl: wrong by following a wrong fenfe of duty, fo nature may fometimes prevail, and lead him to acl: right in oppofition to it. We cannot in this cafe be difpleafed to fee that motive prevail, which we think.ought to prevail, though the perfon himfelf is fo weak as to think otherwife. As his conduct, however, is the erTecl of weaknefs, not principle, we are far from bellowing upon it any thing that approaches to complete approbation. A bigotted Roman Catholick, who, during the maffa- cre of St. Bartholomew, had been fo overcome by companion, as to lave fome unhappy proteftants, whom he thought it his duty to deftroy, would not feem to be entitled to that high applaufe which we mould have bellowed upon him, had he exerted the fame generofity with complete felf-approbation. We might be pleafed with the humanity of his tem- per, but we mould (till regard him with a fort of pity which is altogether inconfiitent with the admi- ration that is 'due to perfecl virtue. It is the fame cafe with all the other paffions. We do not dillike to fee them exert themfelves properly, even when a falfe notion of duty would direcl the perfon to ref- train them. A very devout Quaker, who upon be- ino- (truck upon one cheek, inftead of turning up the other, mould fo far forget his literal interpreta- tion of our Saviour's precept, as to beitow fome good difcipline upon the brute that infuhed him P would
236 Of the S e n s e, &c. Part III.
would not be difagreeable to us. We fhould laugh and be diverted with his fpirit, and rather like him the better for it. But we mould by no means regard him with that refpect and efleem which would feem due to one who, upon a like occafion, had acted properly from a juft fenfe of what was proper to be done. No action can properly be called virtuous, which is not accompanied with the fentiment of felf- approbation.
<H-$»
PART
PART IV.
Of the Effect of Utility upon the fentiment of approbation.
CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION,
CHAP. I.
Of the beauty which the appearance of Utility be- ftows upon all the productions of art , and of the extenjive influence of this fpecies of beauty.
x
HAT utility is one of the principal fources of beauty has been obferved by every body, who has confidered with any attention what confti- tutes the nature of beauty. The conveniency of a houfe gives pleafure to the fpeclator as well as its regularity, and he is as much hurt when he obferves the contrary defect, as when he fees the correfpon- dent windows of different forms, or the door not placed exactly in the middle of the building. That the fitnefs of any fyftem or machine to produce the end for which it was intended, bellows a certain propriety and beauty upon the whole, and renders the very thought and contemplation of it agreeable, is fo very obvious that nobody has overlooked it.
The
23 8 ¥he Effect Part IV.
The caufe too, why utility pleafes, has of late been afiigned by an ingenious and agreeable philofo- pher, who joins the greateft depth of thought to the greateft elegance of exprefiion, and poiTeifes the fingular and happy talent of treating the abftrufeft fubjects not only with the mod perfect perfpicuity, but with the mod lively eloquence. The utility of any object, according to him, pleafes the mafter by perpetually fuggefting to him the pleafure or conve- niency which it is fitted to promote. Every time he looks at it, he is put in mind of this pleafure; and the object in this manner becomes a fource of per- petual fatisfaction and enjoyment. The fpectator enters by fympathy into the fentiments of the mafter, and neceflarily views the object under the fame agree- able afpect. When we vifu the palaces of the great, we cannot help conceiving the fatisfaction we fhould enjoy if we ourfelves were the matters, and were pof- fefled of fo much artful and ingenioufty contrived accommodation. A fimilar account is given why the appearance of inconveniency ihould render any object difagreeable both to the owner and to the fpectator.
But that this fitnefs, this happy contrivance of any production of art, mould often be more valued, than the very end for which it was intended ; and that the exact adjuftment of the means for attaining any conveniency or pleafure, fhould frequently be more regarded, 'than that very conveniency or plea- fure, in the attainment of which their whole merit would feem to confift, has not, fo far as 1 know, been yet taken notice of by any body. That this however is very frequently the cafe, may be obferved
in
Chap. I. of U T I L I T y. 229
in a thoufand inftances, both in the mod frivolous and in the moft important concerns of human life.
When a perfon comes into his chamber, and finds the chairs all (landing in the middle of the room, he is angry with his fervant, and rather than fee them continue in that diforder, perhaps takes the trouble himfelf to let them all in their places with their backs to the wall. The whole propriety of this new fitu- ation arifes from its fuperior conveniency in leaving the floor free and difengaged. To attain this con- veniency he voluntarily puts himfelf to more trouble than all he could have fuffered from the want of it ; fince nothing was more eafy, than to have fet him- felf down upon one of them, which is probably what he does when his labour is over. What he wanted therefore, it feems, was not fo much this conveniency, as that arrangement of things which promotes it. Yet it is this conveniency which ulti- mately recommends that arrangement, and bellows upon it the whole of its propriety and beauty.
A watch, in the fame manner, that falls behind above two minutes in a day, is defpifed by one curi- ous in watches. He fells it perhaps for a couple of guineas, and purchafes another at fifty, which will not lofe above a minute in a fortnight. The fole ufe of watches however, is to tell us what o'clock it is, and to hinder us from breaking any engage- ment, or fuffering any other incpnveniency by our ignorance in that particular point. But the perfon fo nice with regard to this machine, will not always be found either more fcrupuloufiy punctual than other men, or more anxioufly concerned upon any other account, to know precifely what time of day
it
240 The Effect Fart IV.
it is. What interefts him is not fo much the attain- ment of this piece of knowledge, as the perfection of the machine which ferves to attain it.
How many people ruin themfelves by laying out money on trinkets of frivolous utility ? What pleafes thefe lovers of toys is not fo much the utility, as the aptnefs of the machines which are fitted to promote it. All their pockets are Huffed with little conveniencies. They contrive new pockets, un- known in the clothes of other people, in order to carry a greater number. They walk about loaded with a multitude of baubles, in weight and fome- times in value not inferior to an ordinary Jew's-box, fome of which may fometimes be of fome little ufe, but all of which might at all times be very well fpared, and of which the whole utility is certainly not worth the fatigue of bearing the burden.
Nor is it only with regard to fuch frivolous ob- jects that our conduct is influenced by this principle; it is often the fecret motive of the .mod ferions and important purfuits of both private and public life.
The poor man's fon, whom Heaven in its anger has vifited with ambition, when he begins to look around him admires the condition of the rich. He finds the cottage of his father too fmall for his8 ac- commodation,- and fancies he mould be lodged more at his eafe in a palace. He is difpleafed with being obliged to walk a- foot, or to endure the fatigue of riding on horfeback. He fees his fuperiors carried about in machines, ^and imagines that in one of thefe he could travel with lefs inconveniency. He
feels
Chap. I. c/Utilit y. 241
feels himielf naturally indolent, and willing to ferve himfelf with his own hands as little as pofiible ; and judges, that a numerous retinue of fervants would fave him from a great deal of trouble. He thinks if he had attained all thefe, he would fit dill con- tentedly, and be quiet, enjoying himielf in the thought of the happinefs and tranquillity of his fitn- ation. He is enchanted with the diftant idea of this felicity. It appears in his fancy like the life of fome fuperior rank of beings, and in order to arrive at it, he devotes himielf for ever to the purfuit of wealth and ereatnels. To obtain the conveniences which thefe afford, he fubrnits in the firft year, nay in the firfl month of his application, to more fatigue of body and more uneafmefs of mind than he could have fuffered through the whole of his life from the want of them. He fludies to diftinguifh himfelf in fome laborious profeffion. With the mofl unre- lenting indulfry he labours night and day to acquire ralents fuperior to all his competitors. He endea- vours next to bring thole talents into public view, and with equal affiduity folicits every opportunity of employment. For this purpofe he makes his court to all mankind •, he ferves thofe whom he hates, and is obfequious to thofe whom he defpifes. Through the whole of his life he purfues the idea of a certain artificial and elegant repofe which he may never ar- rive at, for which he facrifices a real tranquillity that is at all times in his power, and which, if in the extremity of old age he fhould at lad attain to it, he will find to be in no refpecl preferable to that humble fecurity and contentment which he had aban- doned for it. It is then, in the laft dregs of life, his body wafted with toil and difeafes, his mind galled and ruffled by the memory of a thou-
R fand
242 The Effect Part IV.
fand injuries and difappointments which he imagines he has met with from the injuftice of his enemies, or from the perfidy and ingratitude of his friends, that he begins at laft to find that wealth and great- neis are mere trinkets of frivolous utility, no more adapted for procuring eafe of body or tranquillity of mind than the tweezer-cafes of the lover of toys ; and like them too, more troublefome to the perfon who carries them about with him than all the ad- vantages they can afford him are commodious. There is no other real difference between them, ex- cept that the conveniencies of the one are fomewhat more obfervable than thofe of the other. The pa- laces, the gardens, the equipage, the retinue of the great are objects of which the obvious conveniency ftrikes every body. They do not require that their matters fhould point out to us wherein confifts their utility. Of our own accord we readily enter into it, and by fympathy enjoy and thereby applaud the fa- tisfaction which they are fitted to afford him. But the curiofity of a tooth-pick, of an ear-picker, of a machine for cutting the nails, or of any other trinket of the fame kind, is not fo obvious. Their conveni- ence may perhaps be equally great, but it is not fo ftriking, and we do not fo readily enter into the fa- tisfaclion of the man who poffeffes thrm. They are therefore lefs reaibnable fubjecls of vanity than the magnificence of wealth and greatnels •> and in this confifts the fole advantage of thefe laft. They more effectually gratify that love of diftin&ion fo natural to man. To one who was to live alone in a defolate illand it might be a matter of doubt, perhaps, whe- ther a palace, or a collection of fuch fmall conveni- encies as are commonly contained in a tweezer-cafe, would contribute mod to his happinefs and enjoy- ment.-
Chap. I. ^/Utility. 243
ment. If he is to live in fociety, indeed, there can be no companion, becatife in this, as in all other cafes, we conftantly pay more regard to the fenti- ments of the fpectator, than to thole of the perfon principally concerned, and confider rather how his fituation will appear to other people, than how it will appear to himfelf. If we examine, however, why the fpeclator diftinguifhes with fuch admiration the condition of the rich and the great, we fhall find that it is not fo much upon account of the fuperior eafe or pleafure which they are fuppoiedto enjoy, as of the numberlefs artificial and elegant contrivances for promoting this eafe or pleafure. He does not even imagine that they are really happier than other people : but he imagines that they poffefs more means of happinefs. And ic is the ingenious and artful adjuftment of thole means to the end for which they were intended, that is the principal fource of his admiration. But in the languor of difeafe, and the wearinefs of old age, the pleafures jf the vain and empty diftinctions of greatnefs dii- appear. To one, in this fituation, they are no longer capable of recommending thole toiiibme pur- fuits in which they had formerly engaged him. In his heart he curfes ambition, and vainly regrets the eafe and the indolence of youth, pleafures which are fled for ever, and which he has foolifhly facrificed for what, when he has got it, can afford him no real fatisfaction. In this miferable afpecl does greatnefs appear to every man when reduced either by fpleen or difeafe to obferve with attention his own fituation, and to confider what it is that is really wanting to his happinefs. Power and riches appear then to be what they are, enormous and operofe machines contrived to produce a few trifling conveniencies to R 2 the
244 The E f f ect Part IV.
the body, confiding of fprings the mofl nice and de- licate, which mud be kept in order with the mod anxious attention, and which in fpite of all our care are ready every moment to burft into pieces, and to crufh in their ruins their unfortunate poffeffor. They are immenie fabrics, which it requires the labour of a life to raife, which threaten every moment to over- whelm the perfon that dwells in them, and which while they ftand, though they may fave him from fome fmaller inconveniencies, can protect him from none of the feverer inclemencies of the feafon. They keep off the fummer fhower, not the winter dorm, but leave him always as much, and fometimes more ex- pofed than before, to anxiety, to fear, and to for- row ; to difeafes, to danger, and to death.
But though this fplenetic philofophy, which in time of fickneis or low fpirits is familiar to every man, thus entirely depreciates thofe great objects of human defire, when in better health and in better humour, we never fail to regard them under a more agreeable afpect Our imagination, which in pain and forrow feems to be , confined and cooped up within our own perfons, in times of eafe and profperity expands itfelf to every thing around us. We are then charmed with the beauty of thar accommodation which reigns in the palaces and oeconomy of the great ; and admire how every thing is adapted to promote their eafe, to prevent their wants,' to gratify their wifhes, and to amufe and entertain their mod frivolous defires. If we confider the real fatisfaction which all thefe things are capable of affording, by itfelf and feparated from the beauty off hat arrangement which is fitted to promote it, it will always appear in the higheft
degree
Chap. I. 0/ U t il i t y 245
degree contemptible and trifling. But we rarely view it in this abftract and philofophical light. We naturally confound it in our imagination with the order, the regular and harmonious movement of the fyftem, the machine or ceconomy by means of which it is produced. The pleafures of wealth and great- nefs, when confidered in this complex view, (hike the imagination as fomething grand and beautiful and noble, of which the attainment is well worth all the toil and and anxiety which we are fo apt to beftow upon ir.
And it is well that nature impofes upon us in this manner. It is this deception which roufes and keeps in continual motion the induftry of mankind. It is this which fir ft prompted them to cultivate the ground, to build houfes, to found cities and com- mon-wealths, and to invent and improve all the fciences and arts, which ennoble and embellifh hu- man life ; which have entirely changed the whole face of the globe, have turned the rude forefts of nature into agreeable and fertile plains, and made the tracklefs and barren ocean a new fund of fubfiftence, and the great high road of communication to the different nations of the earth. The earth by thefe labours of mankind has been obliged to redouble her natural fertility, and to maintain a greater multitude of inhabitants. It is to no purpofe, that the proud and unfeeling landlord views his extenfive fields, and without a thought for the wants of his brethren, in imagination confumes himfelf the whole harveft that grows upon them. The homely and vulgar proverb, that the eye is larger than the belly, never was more fully verified than with regard to him. The capacity of his ftomach bears no proportion to
R 3 the
246 ^he Effect Part IV.
the immenfity of his defires, and will receive no more than that of the meaneft peafant. The reft he is obliged to diftribute among thofe, who prepare, in the niceft manner, that little which he himfelf makes ufe of, among thofe who fit up the palace in which this little is to be confumed, among thofe who provide and keep in order all the different bau- bles and trinkets, which are employed in the cecono- my of greatnefs; all of whom thus derive from his luxury and caprice, that fhare of the neceffaries of life, which they would in vain have expected from his humanity or his juftice. The produce of the foil maintains at all times nearly that number of inhabi- tants, which it is capable of maintaining. The rich only feted from the heap what is moft precious and agreeable. They confume little more than the poor, and in fpite of their natural felfifhnefs and rapacity, though they mean only their own conveniency, though the fole end which they propoie from the labours of all the thoufands whom they employ, be the g. atification of their own vain and infatiable de- fires, they divide with the poor the produce of all their improvements. They are led by an invifible hand to make nearly the fame diftribution of the ne- ceffaries of life, which would have been made, had the earth been divided into equal portions among all its inhabitants, and thus without intending it, without knowing it, advance the interefl of the fociety, and afford means to the multiplication of the fpecies. When Providence divided the earth among a few lordly matters, it neither forgot nor abandoned thofe who feemed to have been left out in the partition. Thefe lafl too enjoy their fhare of all that it produces. In what conflitutes
the
Chap. I. of U*t i L i t y. 247
the real happinefs of human Jife, they are in no re- fpect inferior to thofe who would feem fo much above them. In eafe of body and peace of mind, all the different ranks of life are neariy upon a level, and the beggar, who funs himfelf by the fide of the high- way,. pofTeffcs that iecurity which kings are fighting for. /
The fame principle, the fame love of fyltem, the fame regard to the beauty of order, of art and con- trivance, frequently ferves to recommend thofe inft i- tutions, which tend to promote the public welfare. When a patriot exerts himfelf for the improvement of any part of the public police, his conduct does not always arife from pure fympathy with the hap- pinefs of thofe who are to reap the benefit of it. It is not commonly from a fellow-feeling with carriers and waggoners that a public-fpirited man encourages the mending of high roads. When the legiflature eftablifhes premiums and other encouragements to advance the linen or woollen manufactures, its con- duct feldom proceeds from pure fympathy with the wearer of cheap or fine cloth, and much lefs from that with the manufacturer, or merchant. The per- fection of police, the extenfion of trade and manu- factures, are noble and magnificent objects. The contemplation of them pleafes us, and we are inter- efted in whatever can tend to advance them. They make part of the great fyftem of government, and the wheels of the political machine feem to move with more harmony and eafe by means of them. We take pleafure in beholding the perfection of fb beautiful and grand a fyftem, and we are uneafy till we remove any obftruction that can in the lead dil- turb or encumber the regularity of its motions. All R 4 conftitutions
248 The Effect Part IV.
confti'tutions of government, however, are valued only in proportion, as they tend to promote the hap- pinefs of thofe who live under them. This is their fole ufe and end. From a certain fpirit of fyftem, however, from a certain love of art and contrivance, we ibmetimes feem to value the means moie than the end, and to be eager to promote the happinefs of our fellow- creatures, rather from a view to pcrfedt and improve a certain beautiful and orderly fyftem, than from any immediate fenle or feeling of what they either fufrer or enjoy. There have been men of the greater! public ipirit, who have fhewn themielves in other refpects not very fenfible to the feelings of humanity. And on the contrary, there have been men of the greateft humanity, who feem to have been entirely devoid of public fpirit. Every man may find in the circle of his acquaintance inflances both of the one kind and the other. Who had ever lefs humanity, or more public fpirit, than the cele- brated legiflator of Mufcovy ? The focial and well natured James the Firfl of Great-Britain feems, on the contrary, to have had fcarce any paffioi^ either for the glory, or the intereft of his country. Would you awaken the induftry of the man, who feems al- moft dead to ambition, it will often be to no purpofe to defcribe to him the happinefs of the rich and the great ; to tell him that they are generally (heltered from the fun and the rain, that they are feldom hun- gry, that they are feldom cold, and that they are rare- ly expofed to wearinefs, or to want of any kind. The mod eloquent exhortation of this kind wiJl have little erTe6t upon him. If you would hope to fuc- ceed, you muft defcribe to him the conveniency and arrangement of th^ different apartments in their palaces ; you muft explain to him the propriety of
their
Chap. I. (^/Utility. 249
their equipages, and point out to him the number, the order, and the different offices of all their atten- dants. If any thing is capable of making impreffion upon him, this will. Yet all thefe things tend only to keep off the fun and the rain, to fave them from hunger and cold, from want and wearinefs. In the fame manner, if you would implant public virtue in the bread of him, who feems heedlefs of the intereft of his country, it will often be to no purpofe to tell him, what fuperior advantages the fubjecls of a well- governed date enjoy j that they are better lodged, that they are better clothed, that they are better fed. Thefe confiderations will commonly make no great impreffion. You will be more likely to perfuade, if you defcribe the great fyftem of public police which procures thefe advantages, if you explain the connexions and dependencies of its feveral parts, their mutual fubordination to one another, and their general fubferviency to the happinefs of the fociety ; if you mow how this fyftem might be introduced into his own country, what it is that hinders it from tak- ing place there at prefent, how thofe obftru&ions might be removed, and all the feveral wheels of the machine of government be made to move with more harmony and fmoothnefs, without grating upon one another, or mutually retarding one another's moti- ons. It is fcarce poffible that a man mould liften to a difcourfe of this kind, and not feel himfelf ani- mated to fome degree of public fpirit. He will, at lead for the moment, feel fome defire to remove thofe obftructions, and to put into motion fo beautiful and fo orderly a machine. Nothing tends fo much to promote public fpirit as the ftudy of politics, of the feveral fyftems of civil government, their advantages and difadvantages, of the constitution of our own
country,
250 The Effect Part IV.
country, its fituation, and intereft with regard to foreign nations, its commerce, its defence, the difad- vantages it labours under, the dangers to which it may be expofed, how to remove the one, and how to guard againft the other. Upon this account po- litical difquifitions, if juft and reafonable, and prac- ticable, are of all the works of fpeculation the moil ufeful. Even the weakeftand theworflof them are not altogether without their utility. They ferve at leafl to animate the public paffions of men, and roufe them to feek out the means of promoting the happinefs of the fociety.
CHAP. II.
Of the beauty which the appearance of utility bejlows upon the characlers and atlions of men •, and how far the perception of this beauty may be regarded as one of the original principles of approbation.
T,
H E characters of men, as well as the contri- vances of art, or the inftitutions of civil govern- ment, may be fitted either to promote or to difturb the happinefs both of the individual and of the fo- ciety. The prudent, the equitable, the active, re- folute, and fober character promifes profperity and fatisfadion, boxh to the perfon himfelf and to every one connected with him. The raih, the infolent, the flothful, effeminate, and voluptuous, on the contrary, forebodes ruin to the individual, and mif- fortune to all who jjave any thing to do with him. The firft turn of mind has at leaft all the beauty
which
Chap. II. e/ Utility. 251
which can belong to the mod perfect machine that was ever invented for promoting the mod agreeable purpofc : and the fecond ail the deformity of the mod awkward and clumfy contrivance. What in- ftitution of government could tend lb much to pro- mote the happinefs of mankind as the general pre- valence of wifdom and virtue ? All government is but an imperfect remedy for the deficiency of thefe. Whatever beauty, therefore, can belong to civil go- vernment upon account of its utility, mufr in a far fuperior degree belong to thefe. On the contrary, what civil policy can be fo ruinous and d-flructive as the vices of men ? The fatal effects of bad govern- ment arife from nothing, but that it does not iuffici- ently guard againft the mifchiefs which human wick- ed nefs gives occafion to.
This beauty and deformity which characters ap- pear to derive from their ufefulnefs or inconveniency, are apt to ftrike, in a peculiar manner, thole who confider, in an abftract and philofophical light, the actions and conduct of mankind. When a philofo- pher goes to examine why humanity is approved of, or cruelty condemned, he does not always form to himfelf, in a very clear and diifinct manner, the con- ception of any one particular action either of cruelty or of humanity, but is commonly contented with the vague and indeterminate idea which the general names of thofe qualities fuggeft to him. But it is in particular inftances only that the propriety or impro- priety, the merit or demerit of actions is very obvious and difcernible. It is only when particular exam- ples are given that we perceive diftinctly either the concord or difagreement between our own affections and thofe of the agent, or feel a focial gratitude arife
towards
252 The Effect Part IV.
towards him in the one cafe, or a fympathetic re- ientment in the other. When we confider virtue and vice in an abftract and general manner, the qualities by which they excite thefe ieveral fentiments feem in a great meafure to diiappear, and the fentiments themfelves become lefs obvious and difcernible. On the contrary, the happy effects of the one and the fatal confequences of the other feem then to rife up to the view, and as it were to (land out and diftin- guifh themfelves from all the other qualities of either.
The fame ingenious and agreeable author who firft explained why utility pleafes, has been fo (truck with this view of things, as to refolve our whole ap- probation of virtue into a perception of this fpecies of beauty which refults from the appearance of uti- lity. No qualities of the mind, he obferves, are ap- proved of as virtuous, but fuch as are ufefui or agreeable either to the perfon himfelf or to others ; and no qualities are difapproved of as vicious but fuch as have a contrary tendency. And Nature, in- deed, feems to have fo happily adjufted our fenti- ments of approbation and difapprobation, to the con- veniency both of the individual and of the fociety, that after the ftricteft examination it will be found, I believe, that this is univerfally the cafe. But (till I affirm, that it is not the view of this utility or hurt- fulnefs which is either the firft or principal fource of our approbation and difapprobation. Thefe fenti- ments are no cloubt enhanced and enlivened by the perception of the beauty or deformity which refults from this utility or hurtfulnefs. But (till, I fay, they are originally ar.d effentially different from this perception.
For
Chap. II. ^Utility. 25g
For firfb of all, it feems impoflible that the appro- bation of virtue mould be a fentiment of the fame kind with that by which we approve of a convenient and well contrived building •, or that we fhould have no other reafon for praifing a man than that for which we commend a cheft of drawers.
And fecondly, it will be found, upon examinati- on, that the ufefulnefs of any difpofuion of mind is feldom the firft ground of our approbation •, and that the fentiment of approbation always involves in it a fenfe of propriety quite diftincl from the perception of utility. We may obferve this with regard to all the qualities which are aproved of as virtuous, both thofe which, according to this fyftem, are originally valued as ufeful to ourfelves, as well as thofe which are efteemed on account of their ufefulnefs to others.
The qualities mod ufeful to ourfelves are, firft of all, fuperior reafon and underftanding, by which we are capable of difcerning the remote confequen- ces of all our actions, and of forefeeing the advan- tage or detriment which is likely to refult from them : and fecondly, felf- command, by which we are enabled to abftain from prefent pleafure or to en- dure prefent pain, in order to obtain a greater plea- fure or to avoid a greater pain in fome future time. In the union of thofe two qualities confifts the vir- tue of prudence, of all the virtues that which is moil: ufeful to the individual.
With regard to the firft of thofe qualities, it has been obferved on a former occafion, that fuperior reafon and underftanding are originally approved of
as
254 7i* Ejfect Part IV,
as juft and right and accurate, and not merely as ufeful or advantageous. It is in the abftrufer fciences, particularly in the higher parts of mathematics, that the greater! and moft admired exertions of human reafon have been difplayed. But the utility of thofe fciences, either to the individual or to the public, is not very obvious, and to prove it requires a difcuf- fion which is not always very eafily comprehended. It was not, therefore, their utility which firft recom- mended them to the public admiration. This qua- lity was but little infilled upon, till it became necef- fary to make fome reply to the reproaches of thofe, who, having themfelves no tafte for fuch fublime difcoveries, endeavoured to depreciate them as ufe- lefs.
That felf-command, in the fame manner, by which we reftrain our prefent appetites, in order to gratify them more fully upon another occafion, is approved of, as much under the afpect of propriety, as under that of utility. When we act in this manner, the fentiments which influence our conduct feem exactly to coincide with thofe of the fpectator. The fpecta- tor does not feel the folicitations of our prefent appe- tites. To him the pleafure which we are to enjoy a week hence, or a year hence, is juft as interefting as that which we are to enjoy this moment. When for the fake of the prefent, therefore, we facrifice the future, our conduct appears to him abfurd and extravagant in the higheft degree, and he cannot en- ter into the principles which influence it. On the contrary, when we abftain from prefent pleafure, in order to fecure greater pleafure to come, when we act as if the remote object interefts us as much as that which immediately prelTes upon the fenfes, as
our
Chap. II. ^/Utility. 2,55
our affe6tions exactly correfpond with his own, he cannot fail to approve of our behaviour : and as he knows from experience, how few are capable of this felf-command, he looks upon our conduct with a confiderable degree of wonder and admiration. Hence arifes that eminent efleem with which all men naturally regard a Heady perieverance in the practice of frugality, induftry, and application, though directed to no other purpofe than the acqui- fition of fortune. The refolute firmnefs of the per- fon who acts in this manner, and in order to obtain a great though remote advantage, not only gives up all prefent pleafures, but endures the greateft labour both of mind and body, necefiarily commands our approbation. That view of his intereft and happi- nefs which appears to regulate his conduct, exactly tallies with the idea which we naturally form of it. There is the mod perfect correfpondence between his fentiments and our own, and at the fame time, from our experience of the common weaknefs of human nature, it is a correfpondence which we could not reafonably have expected. We not only approve, therefore, but in fome meafure admire his conduct, and think it worthy of a confiderable degree of ap^ plaufe. It is the confcioufnefs of this merited appro- bation and efteem which is alone capable of fupport- ing the agent in this tenour of conduct. The plea- fure which we are to enjoy ten years hence interefts us fo little in comparifon with that which we may enjoy to-day, the paffion which the firft excites, is naturally fo weak in comparifon with that violent emotion which the fecond is apt to give occafion to, that one could never be any balance to the other, un- lefs it was fupported by the fenfe of propriety, by the confcioufnefs that we merited the efteem and
approbation
256 Tbt Effect Part IV.
approbation of every body, by acting in the one way, and that we became the proper objects of their contempt and derifion by behaving in the other.
Humanity, juftice, generofity, and public fpirit, are the qualities moll ufeful to others. Wherein confifts the propriety of humanity and juftice has been explained upon a former occafion, where it was fhewn how much ourefteem and approbation of thofe qualities depended upon the concord between the affections of the agent and thofe of the fpecta- tors.
The propriety of generofity and public fpirit is founded upon the fame principle with that of juftice. Generofity is different from humanity. Thofe two qualities, which at firft fight feem fo nearly allied, do not always belong to the fame perfon. Humani- ty is the virtue of a woman, generofity of a man. The fair fex, who have commonly much more ten- dernefs than ours, have feldom fo much generofity. That women rarely make confiderable donations is an obfervation of the civil law*. Humanity confifts merely in the exquifite fellow-feeling which the fpec- tator entertains with the fentiments of the perfon§ principally concerned, fo as to grieve for their fuf- ferings, to refent their injuries, and to rejoice at their good fortune. The mod humane actions re- quire no felf-denial, no felf-command, no great ex- ertion of the fenfe of propriety. They confift only in doing what this exquifite fympathy would of its own accord prompt us to do. But it is otherwife
with
* Raro mulieres donare folcnt.
Chap. II. (/Utility. 257
with generofny. We never are generous except when in fome refpeft we prefer fome other perfon to ourfelves, and facrifice fome great and important in- tereft of ou*r own to an equal intereft of a friend or of a fuperior. The man who gives up his pretentions to an office that was the great object of his ambition, becaufe he imagines that the fervices of another are better entitled to it •, the man who expofes his life to defend that of his friend, which he judges to be of more importance, neither of them aft from humani- ty, or becaufe they feel more exquifitely what con- cerns that other perfon than what concerns themfelves. They both confider thofe oppofite interefts not in the light in which they naturally appear to themfelves, but in that in which they appear to others. To every byftander, the fuccefs or prefervation of this other perfon may juftly be more interefting than their own •, but it cannot be fo to themfelves. When to the in- tereft of this other perfon, therefore, they facrifice their own, they accommodate themfelves to the fen- timents of the fpeftator, and by an effort of magna- nimity aft according to thofe views of things which they feel, muft naturally occur to any third perfon. The foldier who throws away his life in order to de- fend that of his officer, would perhaps be but little afFefted by the death of that officer, if it fhould happen without any fault of his own ; and a very fmall difafter which had befallen himfelf might ex- cite a much more lively forrow. But when he en- deavours to aft fo as to deferve applaufe, and to make the impartial fpeftator enter into the princi- ples of his conduft, he feels, that to every body but himfelf, his own life is a trifle compared with that of his officer, and that when he facrifices the one to the other, he afts quite properly and agreeably to what
S would
25S Tbe Effect Part IV.
would be the natural apprehenfions of every impar- tial byftander.
It is the fame cafe with the greater exertions of public fpirit. When a young officer expofes his life to acquire fome inconfiderable addition to the domi- nions of his fovereign, it is not, becaufe the acqui- fition of the new territory is, to himfelf, an object more defireable than the prefervation of his own life. To him his own life is of infinitely more va- lue than the conqueft of a whole kingdom for the Hate which he ferves. But when he compares thofe two objects with one another, he does not view them in the light in which they naturally appear to him- felf, but in that in which they appear to the nation he rights for. To them the fuccefs of the war is of the higheft importance ; the life of a pri- vate perfon of fcarce any confequence. When he puts himfelf in their fituation, he immediately feels that he cannot be too prodigal of his blood, if by fhedding it, he can promote fo valuable a purpofe. In thus thwarting, from a fenfe of duty and proprie- ty, the ftrongeft of all natural propenfities, confifts the heroifm of his conduct. There is many an ho- neft Englilhman, who, in his private itation, would be more ferioufly difturbed by the lofs of a guinea, than by the national lofs of Minorca, who yet, had it been in his power to defend that fortrefs, would have facrificed his life a thoufand times rather than, through his fault, have let it fall into the hands of the enemy. When the firft Brutus led forth his own fons to a capital punifhrnent, becaufe they had confpired againft the rifing liberty of Rome, he fa- crificed what, if tie had confulted his own bread only, would appear to be the flronger to the weaker
affection.
Chap. II; of U t i L i t y. 259
affection. Brutus ought naturally to have felt much more for the death of his own fons, than for all th4t probably Rome could have fuffered from the want of fo great an example. But he viewed them, not with the eyes of a father, but with thofeof a Roman citizen. He entered fo thoroughly into the fentiments of this laft character, that he paid no regard to that tye, by which he himfelf was connected with them ; and to a Roman citizen, the fons even of Brutus feemed contemptible, when put into the balance with the fmalleft intereft of Rome. In thefe and in all other cafes of this kind, our admiration is not fo much founded upon the utility, as upon the unexpected, and on that account the great, the noble, and exalt- ed propriety of fuch actions. This utility, when we come to view it, bellows upon them, undoubtedly, a new beauty, and upon that account ilill further recommends them to our approbation. This beauty, however, is chiefly perceived by men of reflection and fpeculation, and is by no means the quality which flrft recommends fuch actions to the natural fentiments of the bulk of mankind.
It is to be obferved, that fo far as the fentiment of approbation arifes from the perception of this beauty of utility, it has no reference of any kind to the fentiments of others. If it was poffible, there- fore, that a perfon mould grow up to manhood with- out any communication with fociety, his own actions might, notwithstanding, be agreeable or difagreeable to him on account of their tendency to his happinefs or difadvantage. He might perceive a beauty of this kind in prudence, temperance, and good con- duct, and a deformity in the oppofite behaviour : He might view his own temper and character with S 2 that
260 The Effect, &c. Part IV.
that fort of fatisfaction with which we confider a well contrived machine, in the one cafe-, or with that fort of diftafte and diflatisfaction with which we regard a very awkward and clumfy contrivance, in the other. As thefe perceptions, however, are merely a ^natter of tafte, and have all the feeblenefs and deli- cacy of that fpecies of perceptions, upon the juftnefs of which what is properly called tafte is founded, they probably would not be much attended to by one in his folitary and miferable condition. Even though they mould occur to him, they would by no means have the fame effect upon him, antecedent to his connexi- on with fociety, which they would have in confe- quence of that connexion. He would not be caft down with inward fhame at the thought of this de- formity \ nor would he be elevated with fecret tri- umph of mind from the confcioufnefs of the contrary beauty. He would not exult from the notion of de- ferving reward in the one cafe, nor tremble from the fufpicion of meriting punifhment in the other. All fuch fentiments fuppofe the idea of fome other being, who is the natural judge of the peribn that feels them ; and it is only by fympathy with the decifions of this arbiter of his conduct, that he can conceive, either the triumph of felf-applaufe, or the fhame of felf-condemnation0
PAR T
PART V.
Of the Influence of Custom and Fashion upon the fentiments of moral approbation and difapprobation.
CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION.
CHAP. I.
Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion upon our noti- ons of beauty and deformity.
A H E R E are other principles befides thofe al- ready enumerated, which have a confiderable influ- ence upon the moral fentiments of mankind, and are the chief caufes of the many irregular and difcordant opinions which prevail in different ages and nations concerning what is blameable or praife- worthy. Thefe principles are cuftom and fa&ion, principles which extend their dominion over our judgments concerning beauty of every kind.
When two objects have frequently been feen toge- ther, the imagination acquires a habit of paMing eafily from the one to the other. If the firft appear, we lay our account that the fecond is to follow. Of
S 3 their
262 Of the Influence Part V.
their own accord they putjjs in mind of one another, and the attention glides eafily along them. Though, independent of cuftom, there fliould be no real beauty in their union, yet when cuftom has thus connected them together, we feel an impropriety in their feparation. The one we think is awkward when it appears without its ufual companion. We mils fomething which we expected to find, and the habitual arrangement of our ideas is difturbed by the disappointment. A fuit of clothes, for example, feems to want fomething if they are without the moft infignificant ornament which ufually accompanies them, and we find a meannefs or awkwardnefs in the abfence even of a haunch button. When there is any natural propriety in the union, cuftcm increafes our fenfe of it, and makes a different arrangement appear ftill more difagreeable than it would otherwife feem 10 be. Thofe who have been accuftomed to fee things in a good tafte, are more difgufted by whatever is clumfy or awkward. Where the con- junction is improper, cuftom either diminifhes, or takes away altogether, our kwk of the impropriety. Thole who have been accuftomed to flovenly diforder loth all fenfe of neatnefs or elegance. The modes of furniture or drefs which feem ridiculous to ftrangers, give no offence to the people who are ufed to them.
Fafhion is different from cuftom, or rather is a particular fpecies of it. That is not the fafhion which every body wears, but which thofe wear who are of a high rank, or character. The graceful, the eafy, and commanding manners of the great, joined to the uiual richnefs and magnificence of their drefs, give a grace to the veryjbrm which they happen to beftow
upon
Chap. I. of C u s t o m. 263
upon it. As long as they continue to ufe this form, it is connected in our imaginations with the idea of fomeching that is genteel and magnificent, and though in itfelf it mould be indifferent, it feems, on account of this relation, to have fomething about it that is genteel and magnificent too. As foon as they drop it, it lofes all the grace, which it had appeared to poi- fefs before, and being now ufed only by the inferior ranks of people, feems to have fomething of their meannefs and awkwardnefs.
Drefs and furniture are allowed by all the world to be entirely under the dominion of cuftom and fafhion. The influence of thofe principles, however, is by no means confined to fo narrow a fphere, but extends itfelf to whatever is in any refpect the object of tade, to mufic, to poetry, to architecture. The modes of drefs and furniture are continually chang- ing, and that fafhion appearing ridiculous to-day which was admired five years ago, we are experi- mentally convinced that it owed, its vogue chiefly or entirely to cuftom and fafhion. Clothes and furni- ture are not made of very durable materials. A well fancied coat is done in a twelve-month, and cannot continue longer to propagate, as the fafhion, that form according to which it was made. The modes of furniture change lefs rapidly than thofe of drefs ; becaufe furniture is commonly more durable. In five or fix years, however, it generally undergoes an entire revolution, and every man in his own time fees the fafhion in this refpecl: change many different ways. The productions of the other arts are much more lad- ing, and, when happily imagined, may continue to propagate the fafhion of their make for a much longer time. A well contrived building may endure many S 4 centuries
264 Of the Influence Part V.
centuries : a beautiful air may be delivered down by a fort of tradition, through many fucceffive genera- tions : a well written poem may laft as long as the world ; and all of them continue for ages together, to give the vogue to that particular ftyle, to that par- ticular tafte or manner, according to which each of them was compofed. Few men*have an opportunity of feeing in their own times the fafhion in any of the{c arts change very confiderably. Few men have fo much experience and acquaintance with the differ- ent modes which have obtained in remote ages and nations, as to be thoroughly reconciled to them, or to judge with impartiality between them, and what takes place in their own age and country. Few men there- fore are willing to allow that cuftom or fafhion have much influence upon their judgments concerning what is beautiful, or otherwife, in the productions of any of thole, arts 5 but imagine, that all the rules, which they think ought to be obferved in each of them, are founded upon reafon and nature, not upon habit or prejudice. A very little attention, however, may convince them of the contrary, and fatisfy them, that the influence of cuftom and fafhion over drefr, and furniture, is not more abfolute than over archi- tecture, poetry, and mufic.
Can any reafon, for example, be afligned why the Doric capital fhould be appropriated to a pillar, whole height is equal to eight diameters ; the Ionic volute to one of nine -, and the Corinthian foliage to one of ten ? The propriety of each of thofe appro- priations can be founded upon nothing but habit and cuftom. The eye having been ufed to fee a particu- lar proportion connected with a particular ornament^ would be offended if they were not joined together.
Each
Chap I. of C u s t • m. 26*5
Each of the five orders has its peculiar ornaments, which cannot be changed for any other, without giving offence to all thofe who know any thing of the rules of architecture. According to fome archi- tec~h, 1 indeed, fuch is the exquifite judgment with which the ancients have afligned to each order its pro- per ornaments, that no others can be found which are equally fuitable. It feems, however, a little diffi- cult to be conceived that thefe forms, though, no doubt, extremely agreeable, fliould be the only forms which can fuit thofe proportions, or that there mould not be five hundred others which, antecedent to eftablilhed cuftom, would have fitted them equally well. When cuftom, however, has eftablifhed par- ticular rules of building, provided they are not ab- folutely unreafonable, it is abfurd to think of alter- ing them for others which are only equally good, or even for others which, in point of elegance and beauty, have naturally fome little advantage over them. A man would be ridiculous who fliould ap- pear in public with a fuit of clothes quite different from thofe which are commonly worn, though the new drefs mould in itfelf be ever fo graceful or con- venient. And there feems to be an abfurdity of the fame kind in ornamenting a houfe after a quite dif- ferent manner from that which cuftom and fafhion have prefcribed •, though the new ornaments fhould in themfelves be fomewhat fuperior to the common ones.
According to the ancient rhetoricians, a certain meafure or verfe was by nature appropriated to each particular fpecies of writing, as being naturally ex- preffive of that character, fentiment, or paflion,
which
266 Of the Influence Part V.
which ought to predominate in it. One verfe, they faid, was fit for grave and another for gay works, which could not, they thought, be interchanged without the greateft impropriety. The experience of modern times, however, feems to contradict this principle, though in itfelf it would appear to be extremely probable. What is the burlefque verfe in Englifh is the heroic verfe in French. The trage- dies of Racine and the Henriad of Voltaire, are in the fame verfe with,
Thus faid to my lady the knight full of care.
The burlefque verfe in French, on the contrary, is pretty much the fame with the heroic verfe of ten fyllables in Englifh. Cuftom has made the one na- tion affociate the ideas of gravity, fublimity, and ferioufnefs, to that meafure which the other has connected with whatever is gay, flippant, and ludi- crous. Nothing would appear more abfurd in Eng- lifh than a tragedy written in the Alexandrine verfes of the French ; or in French, than a work of the fame kind in verfes of ten fyllables.
An eminent artift will bring about a confiderable change in the eftablifhed modes of each of thofe arts, and introduce a new fafhion of writing, mufic, or architecture. As the drefs of an agreeable man of high rank recommends itfelf, and how peculiar and fantaftical foeyer, comes foon to be admired and imitated ♦, fo the excellencies of an eminent nufter recommend his peculiarities, and his manner becomes the fafhionable ftyle in the art which he practifes. The tafte of the Italians in mufic and architecture, has, within thefe fifty years* undergone a confiderable
* change.
Chap. L of Custom. 26j
change, from imitating the peculiarities of ibme eminent matters in each of thofe arts. Seneca is ac- cufed by Quintilian of having corrupted the tafte of the Romans, and of having introduced a frivolous prettinefs in the room of majeftic reafon and mafcu- line eloquence. Salluft and Tacitus have by others been charged with the fame accusation, tho' in a dif- ferent, manner. They gave reputation, it is pre- tended, to a ftyle, which though in the higheft de- gree concife, elegant, exprefiivc, and even poetical, wanted, however, eafe, iimpiicity, and nature, and was evidently the production of the mod laboured and ftudied affectation. How many great qualities mud that writer poffefs who can thus render his very faults agreeable? After the praife of refining the tafte of a nation, the higheft eulogy, perhaps, which can be beftowed upon any author is to fay, that he corrupted it. In our own language, Mr. Pope and Dr. Swift have each of them introduced a manner different from what was practifed before, into all works that are written in rhyme, the one in long verfes, the other in fhort. The quaintnefs of Butler has given place to the plamnels of Swift. The rambling freedom of Dryden, and the correct but often tedious and profaic languor of Addifon, are no longer the objects of imitation, but all long verfes are now written after the manner of the nervous pre- cifion of Mr. Pope.
Neither is it only over the productions of the arts, that cuftom and fafhion exert their dominion. They influence our judgments, in the fame manner, with regard to the beauty of natural objects. What vari- ous and oppofite forms are deemed beautiful in dif- ferent fpecies of things ? The proportions which are
admired
?68 0/ /^ Influence Part V.
admired in one animal, are altogether different from thofe which are efteemed in another. Every clafs of things has its own peculiar conformation, which is approved of, and has a beauty of its own, diftinc~t from that of every other fpecies. It is upon this account that a learned Jefuit, father Burlier, has determined that the beauty of every objedt confifts in that form and colour, which is mod ufual among things of that particular fort to which it belongs. Thus, in the human form, the beauty of each feature lies in a certain middle equally remov- ed from a variety of other forms that are ugly. A beautiful nofe, for example, is one that is neither very long, nor very fhort, neither very ftraight, nor very crooked, but a fort of middle among all thefe extremes, and lefs different from any one of them, than all of them are from one another. It is the form which Nature feems to have aimed at in them all, which, however, fhe deviates from in a great variety of ways, and very feldom hits exactly •, but to which all thofe deviations (till bear a very ftrong refcmblance. When a number of drawings are made after one pattern, though they may all mifs it in fome refpects, yet they will all refemble it more than they refemble one another •, the general charac- ter of the pattern will run through them all •, the moil fmgular and odd will be thofe which are moft wide of it •, and though very few will copy it exactly, yet the moft accurate delineations will bear a greater re- femblance to the moft carelefs, than the carelefs ones will bear to one another. In the fame manner, in each fpecies of creatures, what is moft beautiful bears the ftrongeft charadters of the general fabric of the fpecies, and hasvthe ftrongeft refemblance to the greater part of the individuals with which it is
claffecl
Chap. I. c/ Custom, 269
claffed. Monfters. on the contrary, or what is per- fectly deformed, are always mod fingular and odd, and have the lead reiemblance to the generality of that fpecies to which they belong. And thus the beauty of each fpecies, though in one ienfe the rareft of all things, becaufe few individuals hit this middle form exactly, yet in another, is the molt common, becaufe all the deviations from it refemble it more than they refemble one another. The mod cuftom- ary form, therefore, is in each fpecies of things, according to him, the moft beautiful. And hence it is that a certain practice and experience in contem- plating each fpecies of objects is requifite, before we can judge of its beauty, or know wherein the middle and moft ufual form confifts. The niceft judgment concerning the beauty of the human fpe- cies, will not help us to judge of that of flowers, or horfes, or any other fpecies of things. It is for the fame reafon that in different climates and where different cuftoms and ways of living take place, as the gene- rality of any fpecies receives a different conformation from thofe circumftances, lb different ideas of its beauty prevail. The beauty of a Moorifh is not ex- actly the fame with that of an Englifh horfe. What different ideas are formed in different nations con- cerning the beauty of the human fhape and counte- ance? A fair complexion is a mocking deformity upon the coaft of Guinea. Thick lips and a flat nofe are a beauty. In fome nations long ears that hang down upon the fhoulders are the objects of univer- fal admiration. In China if a lady's foot is fo large as to be fit to walk upon, fhe is regarded as a mon- fter of uglinefs. Some of the favage nations in North- America tie four boards round the heads of their children, and thus fqueeze them, while the
bones
?7° Of the Influence Part X.
bones are tender and griftly, into a form that is al- moft perfectly fquare. Europeans are aftonifhed at the abfurd barbarity of this practice, to which fome miffionaries have imputed the lingular ftupidity 0/ thofe nations among whom it prevails. But when they condemn thofe favages, they do not reflect that the ladies in Europe had, till within thefe very- few years, been endeavouring, for near a century paft, to fqueeze the beautiful roundneis of their na- tural fh ape into a fquare form of the fame kind. And that notwithstanding the many diftortions and difeafes which this practice was known to occafion, cuftom had rendered it agreeable among fome of the mod civilized nations, which, perhaps, the world ever beheld.
Such is the fyflem of this learned and ingenious father, concerning the nature of beauty ; of which the whole charm, according to him, would thus feem to arife from its falling in with the habits which 'cuftom had imprelled upon the imagination, with regard to things of each particular kind. I cannot, however, be induced to believe that our fenfe even of external beauty is founded altogether on cuftom. The utility of any form, its fitneis for the ufeful purpofes for which it was intended, evidently re- commends it, and renders it agreeable to us inde- pendent of cuftom. Certain colours are more agree- able than others, and give more delight to the eye the firft time it ever beholds them. A fmooth fur- face is more agreeable than a rough one. Variety is more pleafmg than a tedious undiverfified uniformity. Connected variety, in which each new appearance feems to be introduced by what went before it, and in which all the adjoining parrs feem to have fome na- tural
Chap. II. ©/Custom. 271
tural relation to one another, is more agreeable than a disjointed and diforderly aflemblage of unconnect- ed objects. But though I cannot admit that cuftom is the fole principle of beauty, yet I can ib far allow the truth of this ingenious fyftem as to grant, that there is fcarce any one external form fo beautiful as to pleafe, if quite contrary to cuftom and unlike whatever we have been ufed to in that particular fpe- cies of things : or fo deformed as not to be agreeable, if cuftom uniformly iupports it, and habituates us to fee it in every fingle individual of the kind.
CHAP. II.
Of the influence of cuftom and fafoion upon moral fentiments.
O I N C E our fentiments concerning beauty of every kind are fo much influenced by cuftom and fafhion, it cannot be expected, that thofe, concern- ing the beauty, of conduct, fhould be entirely ex- empted from the dominion of thofe principles. Their influence here, however, fcems to be much lefs than it is every where elfe. There is, perhaps, no form of external objects, how abfurd and fantaftical fo- ever, to which cuftom will not reconcile us, or which fafhion will not render even agreeable. But the characters and conduct of a Nero, or a Claudius, are what no cuftom will ever reconcile us to, what no fafhion will ever render agreeable ; but the one will always be the object of dread and hatred ; the other of fcorn and derifion. The principles of the imagination, upon which our fenfe of beauty de- pends,
272 Of the Influx nnc e Part V.
pends, are of a very nice and delicate nature, and may ealily be altered by habit and education : but the fentiments of moral approbation and difappro- bation, are founded on the ftrongeft and mod vigo- rous paffions of human nature •, and though they may be fomewhat warpt, cannot be entirely per- verted.
But though the influence of cuftom and faihion, upon moral fentiments, is not altogether fo great, it is however perfectly fimilar to what it is every where elfe. When cuftom and faihion coincide with the natural principles of right and wrong, they heighten the delicacy of our fentiments, and increale our abhorrence for every thing which approaches to evil. Thofe who have been educated in what is really good company, not in what is commonly called fuch, who have been accu domed to fee no- thing in the perfons whom they efteemed and lived with, but juftice, modefty, humanity, and good order •, are more Ihocked with whatever feems to be inconflftent with the rules which thofe virtues pre- fcribe. Thofe, on the contrary, who have had the misfortune to be brought up amidft violence, licen- tioufnefs, falfehood, and injuftice •, lofe, though not all fenfe of the impropriety of fuch conduct, yet all fenfe of its dreadful enormity, or of the vengeance and punifhment due to it. They have been famili- arized with it from their infancy, cuftom has ren- dered it habitual to them, and they are very apt to regard it as, what is called the way of the world, fomething which either may, or muft be prac- tifed, to hinder us from being the dupes of our own integrity. '■
Faihion
Chap. II. of C 1/ s t o m. |«i
Fafhion too will fometimes give reputation to a certain degree of diforder, and on the contrary dif- countenance qualities which deferve efteem. In the reign of Charles II. a degree of licentioufnefs was deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It was connected, according to the notions of thofe times, with generofity, fincerity, magnanimity, loy- alty, and proved that the perfon who acted in this manner, was a gentleman, and not a puritan ; fe- verity of manners, and regularity of conduct, on the other hand, were altogether unfafhionable, and were connected, in the imagination of that age, with cant, cunning, hypocrify, and low manners. To fuperficial minds^ the vices of the great feem at all times agreeable. They connect them* not only with the fplendour of fortune, but with many fuperiour virtues, which they afcribe to their fuperiors; with the fpirit of freedom and independency, with frankr nefs, generofity, humanity, and politenefs. The virtues of the inferior ranks of people, on the con- trary, their parfimonious frugality, their painful- in- dustry, and rigid adherence to rules, feem to them mean and difagreeable. They connect them, both with the meannefs of the Station to which thofe quali- ties commonly belong, and with many great vices, which, they fuppofe, ufually accompany them •, fuch as an abject, cowardly, ill-natured, lying, pilfering difpofition.
The objects with which men in the different pro- feflions and ftates of life are converfant, being very different, and habituating them to very different paf- fions, naturally form in them very different charac- ters and manners. We expect in each rank and pro-
T fefllon,
274 Of the Influence Part V.
fefiion, a degree of thofe manners, which, experience has taught us, belong to it. But as in each fpecies of things, we are particularly pleafed with the middle conformation, which in every part and feature agrees mod exactly with the general ftandard which nature feems to have eftablifhed for things of that kind •, fo in each rank, or, if I may fay fo, in each fpecies of men, we are particularly pleafed, if they have nei- ther too much, nor too little of the character which ufually accompanies their particular condition and fituation. A man, we fay, fhouid look like his trade and profeflion ; yet the pedantry of every pro- feflion is difagreeable. The different periods of life have, for the fame reafon, different manners affigned to them. We expect in old age, that gravity and fedatenefs which its infirmities, its long experience, and its worn-out fenfibility feem to render both natu- ral and refpectable ; and we lay our account to find in youth that fenfibility, that gaiety and fprightly vi- vacity which experience teaches us to expect: from the lively impreffions that all interefting objects are apt to make upon the tender and unpractiied fenfes of that early period of life. Each of thofe two ages, however, may eafily have too much of thefe peculi- arities which belong to it. The flirting levity of youth, and the immoveable infenfibility of old age, are equally difagreeable. The young, according to the common faying, are mofl agreeable when in their behaviour there is fomething of the manners of the old, and the old, when they retain fomething of the gaiety of the young. Either of them, however, may eafily have too much of the manners of the other. The extreme coldnefs, and dull formality, which are pardoned in old age, make youth ridicu- lous. The levity, the carelefiheft, and the vanity,
which
Chap. I J. ^/Custom, 275
which are indulged in youth, render old age con-» temptible.
The peculiar character and manners which we are led by cuftom to appropriate to each rank and pro- feffion,- have fometimes perhaps a propriety indepen- dent of cuftom ; and are what we mould approve of for their own fakes, if we took into confideration all the different circumftances which naturally affect thofe in each different ftate of life. The propriety of a perfon's behaviour, depends not upon its fuitable- nefs to any one circumftance of his fituation, but to all the circumftances, which, when we bring his cafe home to ourfelves we feel, fhould naturally call upon his attention. If he appears to be fo much oc- cupied by any one of them, as entirely to neglect the reft, we difapprove of his conduct, as fomething which we cannot entirely go along with, becaufe not properly adjufted to all the circumftances of his fitu- ation : yet, perhaps, the emotion he expreffes for the object which principally interefts him, does not exceed what we fhould entirely fympathize.with, and approve of, in one whole attention was not required by any other thing. A parent in private life might, upon the lofs of an only fon, exprefs without blame, a degree of grief and tendernefs, which would be un- pardonable in a general at the head of an army, when glory, and the public fafety demanded fo great a part of his attention. As different objects ought, upon common occafions, to occupy the attention of men of different profefTions, fo different pa/lions ought, naturally to become habitual to them ; and when we bring home to ourfelves their fituation in this parti- cular refpect, we muft be fenfible, that every occur- rence fhould naturally affect them more or lefs, ac- T 2. cording
276 Of the Influence Part V,.
cording as the emotion which it excites, coincides or difagrees with the fixt habit and temper of their minds. We cannot expect the fame fenfibility to the gay pleafures and amufements of life in a clergyman which we lay our account with in an officer. The man whofe peculiar occupation it is to keep the world in mind of that awful futurity which awaits them, who is to announce what may be the fatal con- fe-quences of every deviation from the rules of duty, and who is himfelf to fet the example of the moft exact conformity, feems to be the mefTenger of ti- dings, which cannot, in propriety, be delivered either with levity or indifference. His mind is fuppofed to be continually occupied with what is too grand and folemn, to leave any room for the impreflions of thofe frivolous objects, which fill up the attention of the diffipated and the gay. We readily feel there- fore, that, independent of cuftom, there is a propri- ety in the manners which cuftom has allotted to this profeiTion ; and that nothing can be more fuitable to the character of a clergyman, than that grave, that auftere and abftracted feverity, which we are habitu- ated to expect in his behaviour. Thefe reflections are fo very obvious, that there is fcarce any man lb inconfiderate, as not, at fome time, to have made them, and to have accounted to himfelf in this man- ner for his approbation of the ufual character of this order.
The foundation of the cuftom ary character of fome other profeiTions is not fo* obvious, and our ap- probation of it is founded entirely in habit, without being either confirmed, or enlivened by any reflections of this kind. We are led by cuftom, for example, to annex the character of gaiety, levity, and fprighdy
freedom,
Chap. II. ^/Custom, 277
freedom, as well as of fome degree of diffipation, to the military profeffion : yet, if we were to confider what mood or tone of temper would be moft fuita- ble to this fituation, we mould be apt to determine, perhaps, that the mod ferious and thoughtful turn of mind, would bed become thole whofe lives are con- tinually expofed to uncommon danger-, and who fhould therefore be more conftantly occupied with the thoughts of death and its confequences than other men. It is this very circumftance, however, which is not improbably the occafion why the contrary turn of mind prevails fo much among men of this pro- feiFion. It requires fo great an effort to conquer the ^fear of death, when we furvey it with (leadinefs and attention, that thofe who are conftantly expofed to it, find it eafier to turn away their thoughts from it al- together, to wrap themfelves up in carelefs fecurity and indifference, and to plunge themfelves, for this purpoie, into every fort of amufcment and diffipa- tion. A camp is not the element of a thoughtful or a melancholy man : perfons of that cad, indeed, are often abundantly determined, and are capable, by a great effort, of going on with inflexible refolu- tion to the moft unavoidable death. But to be ex- pofed to continual, though lefs imminent danger, to be obliged to exert, for a long time, a degree of this effort, exhaufts and depreffes the mind, and renders it incapable of all happinefs and enjoyment. The gay and carelefs, who have occafion to make no ef- fort at all, who fairly refolve never to look before them, but to lofe in continual pleafures and amufe- ments, all anxiety about their fituation, more eaflly fnpport fuch circumftances. Whenever, by any peculiar circumftances, an officer has no reafon to lay his account with being expofed to any unc'om- T 3 mon
2j8 Of the Influence Part V.
mon danger, he is very apt to lofe the gaiety and dif- iipated thoughtlefsnefs of his character. The cap- tain of a city guard is commonly as fober, careful, and penurious an animal as the reft of his fellow- citi- zens. A long peace is, for the fame reafon, very apt to diminifh the difference between the civil and the military character. The ordinary fituation, howe- ver, of men of this profeflion, renders gaiety, and a degree of diflipation, fo much their ufual character ; and cuitom has, in our imagination, fo (trongly con- nected this character with this ftate of life, that we are very apt to defpife any man, whofe peculiar hu- mour or fituation, renders him incapable of acquiring it. We laugh at the grave and careful faces of a city guard, which, fo little refemble thofe of their profef- fion. They themfelves feem often to be afhamed of the regularity of their own manners, and, not to be out of the fafhion of their trade, are fond of affecting that levity, which is by no means natural to them. Whatever is the deportment which we have been ac- cuftomed to fee in a refpectable order of men, it comes to be fo affociated in our imagination with that order, that whenever we fee the one, we lay our ac- count that we are to meet with the other, and when difappointed, mifs fomething which we expected to find. We are embarraffed, and put to a (land, and know not how to addrefs ourfelves to a character, which plainly affects to be of a different fpecies from thofe with which we mould have been difpofed to clafs it. .
The different fituations of different ages and countries, are apt, in the fame manner, to give dif- ferent characters to the generality of thofe who live in them, and their fentiments concerning the parti- cular
Chap. II. cf C u s t o m. 279
cular degree of each quality, that is either blameable, or praife-worthy, vary according to that degree, which is ufual in their own country, and in their own times. That degree of politenefs, which would be highly efteerned, perhaps, would be thought ef- feminate adulation, in Rufiia, would be regarded as rudenefs and barbarifm at the court of France. That degree of order and frugality, which, in a Polifh nobleman, would be confidered as cxceflive parfimony, would be regarded as extravagance in a citizen of Amfterdam. Every age and country look upon that degree of each quality, which is commonly to be met with in thofe who are efteerned among themfelves, as the golden mean of that particular talent or virtue. And as this varies, according as their different circumftances render different qualities more or lefs habitual to them, their fentirnents con- cerning the exact propriety of character and behavi- our vary accordingly.
Among civilized nations, the virtues which are founded upon humanity, are more cultivated than thofe which are founded upon felf-denial and the command of the paffions. Among rude and bar- barous nations, it is quite otherwife, the virtues of felf-denial are more cultivated than thofe of huma- nity. The general fecurity and happinefs which prevail in ages of civility and politenefs afford little exercife to the contempt of danger, to patience in enduring labour, hunger, and pain. Poverty may eafily be avoided, and the contempt of it therefore^" almoft ceafes to be a virtue. The abflinence from pleafure, becomes lefs neceffary, and the mind is more at liberty to unbend itfelf, and to indulge
T 4 its
zSo Of the Influence. Part V,
its natural inclinations in all thofe particular re- aped s.
Among favages and barbarians it is quite other- wife. Every favage undergoes a fort of Spartan difcipline, and by the neceffity of his fituation is in- ured to every fort of hardfhip. He is in continual danger : He is often expofed to the greateft extremi- ties of hunger, and frequently dies of pure want. His circumftances not only habituate him, to every fort of diftrefs, but teach him to give way to none of the paffions which that diftrefs is apt to excite. He can expect from his countrymen no fympathy or in- dulgence for fuch weaknefs. Before we can feel much for others, we mud in fome meafure be at eafe ourfelves. If our own mifery pinches us very feverely, we have no leifure to attend to that of our neighbour : And all favages are too much occupied with their own wants and neceffities, to give much attention to thofe of another perfon. A favage, therefore, whatever be the nature of his diftrefs, ex- peels no fympathy from thofe about him, and dif- clains, upon that account, to expofe himfelf, by slU lowing the leaft weaknefs to efcape him. His paf- fions, how furious and violent foe^er, are never per- mitted to difturb the ferenity of his countenance or the compofure of his conduct and behaviour. The favages in North America, we are told, alTume upon all occafions the greateft indifference, and would think themfelves degraded if they fliould ever ap- pear in any refpecl: to be overcome, either by love, or grief, or refentment. Their magnanimity and fdf-command, in tfris refpecl:, are almoft beyond the conception of Europeans. In a country in which, dl men are upon > level, with regard to rank and
fortune
Chap. II. of C U S T o m. 281
fortune, it might be expected that the mutual incli- nations of the two parties fhould be the only thing confidered in marriages, and fhould be indulged without any fort of controul. This, however, is the country in which all marriages, without exception, are made up by the parents, and in which a young man would think himfelf difgraced for ever, if he fhewed the lead preference of one woman above an- other, or did not exprels the mod complete indiffer- ence, both about the time when, and the perfon to whom he was to be married. The weaknefs of love, which is fo much indulged in ages of humanity and politenefs, is regarded among favages as the moft un- pardonable effeminacy. Even after the marriage the two parties feem to be afhamed of a connexion which is founded upon fo fordid a neceflity. They do not live together. They fee one another by Health only. They both continue to dwell in the houfes of their re- ipective fathers, and the open cohabitation of the two fexes, which is permitted without blame in all other countries, is here confidered as the moft inde- cent and unmanly fenfuality. Nor is it only over this agreeable paflion that they exert this abfolute felf-command. They often bear in the fight of all their countrymen with injuries, reproach, and the groflfeft infults with the appearance of the greatett in- fenfibility, and without exprefTing the fmalleft re- fentment. "When a favage is made prifoner of war, and receives, as is ufual, the fentence of death from his conquerors, he hears it without exprefTing any emotion, and afterwards fubmits to the moft dread- ful torments, without ever bemoaning himfelf, or difcovering any other paflion but contempt of his enemies. While he is hung by the moulders over a flow fire, he derides his tormentors, and tells them
with
2%z Of the I n f l u e n c e - Part V*
with how much more ingenuity, he himfelf had tor- mented fuch of their countrymen as had fallen into his hands. After he has been fcorched and burnt, and lacerated in all the moft tender and fenftble parts of his body for feveral hours together, he is often al- lowed, in order to prolong his miiery, a ftiort refpite, and is taken down from the (lake : he employs this interval in talking upon all indifferent fubjects, in- quires after the news of the country, and feems in- different about nothing but his own fituation. The fpeclators exprefs the fame infenfibility ; the fight of fo horrible an object feems to make no impreffion upon them •, they fcarce look at the prifoner, except when they lend a hand to torment him. At other times they fmoke tobacco, and amufe themfelves with any common object, as if no fuch matter was going on. Every favage is faid to prepare himfelf from his earlieft youth for this dreadful end. He compofes, for this purpofe, what they call the fong of death, a fong which he is to fmg when he has fallen into the hands of his enemies, and is expiring under the tortures which they inflict upon him. It confifts of infults upon his tormentors, and expreffes the higher!; contempt of death and pain. He fings this fong upon all extraordinary occafions, when he goes out to war, when he meets his enemies in the field, or whenever he has a mind to mow that he has farni- liarifed his imagination to the mod dreadful misfor- tunes, and that no human event can daunt his refo- lution, or alter, his purpofe. The fame contempt of death and torture prevails among all other favage na- tions. There is not a negro from the coaft of Africa who does nor, in this refpedl, poffefs a degree of magnanimity which^he foul of his fordid matter is
too
Chap. II. ^/Custom. 283
too often fcarce capable of conceiving. Fortune never exerted more cruelly her empire over mankind, than when fhe fubjedted thofe nations of heroes to the refufe of the jails of Europe, to wretches who ponefs the virtues neither of the countries which they come from," nor of thofe which they go to, and whofe levity, brutality, and bafenefs, fo juftly expofe them to the contempt of the vanquifhed.
This heroic and unconquerable firmnefs, which the cuftom and education of his country demand of every lavage, is not required of thole who are brought up to live in civilized focieties. If thefe laft complain when they are in pain, if they grieve when they are in diftrefs, if they allow themfelves either to be overcome by love, or to be difcompofed by anger, they are eafily pardoned. Such weakneffes are not apprehended to afFecl: theefTential parts of their cha- racter. As long as they do not allow themfelves to be tranfported to do any thing contrary to juftice or humanity, they lofe but little reputation, though the ierenity of their countenance or the compofure of their difcourfe and behaviour mould be lbmewhat ruffled and diflurbed. A humane and polifhed peo- ple, who have more fenfibility to the paflions of others, can more readily enter into an animated and pafiionate behaviour, and can more eafily pardon ibme little excels. The perfon principally concerned is fenfible of this ; and being allured of the equity of his judges, indulges himfelf in ftronger expreffions of paffion, and is lefs afraid of expofing himfelf to their contempt by the violence of his emotions. We can venture ro exprefs more emotion in the prefence of a friend than in that of a ftranger, becaufe we ex- peel: more indulgence from the one than from the
other.
284 Of the 1 n f l u e n c e - Part V.
other. And in the fame manner the rules of decorum among civilized nations, admit of a more animated behaviour, than is approved of among barbarians. The firft converle together with the opennefs of friends ; the fecond with the referve of ftrangers. The emotion and vivacity with which the French and the Italians, the two moft polifhed nations upon the continent, exprefs themfelves on occafions that are at all interefting, furprife at firft thofe ftrangers who happen to be travelling among them, and who, having been educated among a people of duller fenfi- bility, cannot enter into this pafFionate behaviour, of which they have never feen any example in their own country. A young French nobleman will weep in the preience of the whole court upon being refufed a regiment. An Italian, fays the abbot Du Bos, ex- prefies more emotion on being condemned in a fine of twenty (hillings, than an Englishman on receiving the fentence of death. Cicero, in the times of the highcft Roman politenefs, could, without degrading himfelf, weep with all the bitternefs of lbrrow in the fight of the whole fenate and the whole people ; as it is evident he muft have done in the end of almoft every oration. The orators of the earlier and ruder ages of Rome could not probably, confilient with the manners of the times, have expreffcd themfelves with fo much emotion. It would have been re- garded, I iuppofe, as a violation of nature and pro- priety in the Scipios. in the Leliufes, and in the el- der Cato, to have expofed lb much tenderneis to the view of the public. Thofe ancient warriors could exprefs themfelves, with order, gravity, and good judgment •, but are laid to have been ftrangers to that iubiimeand palli-Qnate eloquence which was firft introduced into Rome, not many years before the
birth
Chap. II. of C u s t o m. 2§^
birth of Cicero, by the two Gracchi, by Craflus, and by Sulpitius. This animated eloquence, which has been long praclifed, with or without fuccefs, both in France and Italy, is but juft beginning to be intro- duced into England. So wide is the difference be- tween the degrees of felf-command which are re- quired in civilized and in barbarous nations, and by iuch different ftandards do they judge of the pro- priety of behaviour.
This difference gives occafion to many others that are not lefs effential. A polifhed people being ac- cu domed to give way, in fome mealure, to the move- ments of nature, become frank, open, and fincere, Barbarians, on the contrary, being obliged to fmo- ther and conceal the appearance of every paflion, neceffarily acquire the habits of falfehood and dif- fimulation. It is oblerved by all thofe who have been converfant with favage nations, whether in Afia, Africa, or America, that they are all equally impenetrable, and that, when they have a mind to conceal the truth, no examination is capable^ of drawing it from them. They cannot be trepanned by the mod artful queftions. The torture itfelf is incapable of making them confefs any thing which they have no mind to tell. The paffions of a fa- vage too, though they never exprefs themfelves by any outward emotion, but lie concealed in the breafl: of the fufferer, are, notwithftanding, all mounted to the highelt pitch of fury. Though he fcrldom fhows any fymptoms of anger, yet his vengeance, when he comes to give way to it, is always ianguinary and dreadful. The lead: affront drives him to defpair. His countenance and difcourfe indeed are ftill fober and comoofed, and exprefs nothing but the mod: per-
fedt
286 Of the 1 n f l u e n c e Part V,
feet tranquillity of mind: But his actions are often the mod furious and violent. Among the North- Americans it is not uncommon for perfons of the tenderer! age and more fearful fex to drown them- felves upon receiving only a flight reprimand from their mothers, and this too without exprefling any pafTions or faying any thing, except, youjhallno Ion- ger have a daughter. In civilized nations the paf- fions of men are not commonly fo furious or fo def- perate. They are often clamorous and noify, but are feldom very hurtful j and feem frequently to aim at no other fatisfaction, but that of convincing the fpectator, that they are in the right to be fo much moved, and of procuring his fympathy and appro- bation.
All thefe effects of cuftom and fafhion, however, upon the moral fentiments of mankind, are inconfi- derable in comparifon of thofe which they give occa- fion to in fome other cafes ; and it is not concerning the general ftyle of character and behaviour, that thofe principles produce the greater! perverfion of judgment, but concerning the propriety or impro- priety of particular ufages.
The different manners which cuftom teaches us to approve of in the different profeilions and ftates of life, do not concern things of the greateft importance. We expect truth and juftice from an old man as well as from a young, from a clergyman as well as from an officer •, and it is in matters of fmall moment only that we look for the diftinguifhing marks of their re- fpective characters. With regard to thefe too, there is often fome unobferved circumftance which, if it was attended to, woultl fhow us, that, independent
of
Chap. II. ^/Custom. 287
of cuftom, there was a propriety in the character which cuftom had taught us to allot to each profef- fion. We cannot complain, therefore, in this cafe, that the perverfion of natural fentiment is very great. Though the manners of different nations require dif- ferent degrees of the fame quality, in the character which they think worthy of efteem, yet the word that can be faid to happen even here, is that the du- ties of one virtue are fometimes extended fo as to en- croach a little upon the precincts of fome other. The ruftic hofpitality that is in fafhion among the Poles encroaches, perhaps, a little upon ceconomy and good order ; and the frugality that is efteemed in Holland, upon generofity and good-fellowfhip. The hardinefs demanded of favages diminifhes their humanity ; and, perhaps, the delicate fenfibility re- quired in civilized nations fometimes deftroys the mafculine firmnefs of the character. In general, the ftyle of manners which takes place in any nation, may commonly upon the whole be faid to be that which is mod fuitable to its fuuation. Hardinefs is the character mo/t fuitable to the circumftances of a favage -, fenfibility to thofe of one who lives in a very civilized focie/y. Even here, therefore, we cannot complain that the moral fentiments of men are very grofsly perverted.
It is not therefore in the general ftyle of conduct or behaviour that cuftom authorizes the wideft depar- ture from what is the natural propriety of action. With regard to particular ufages its influence is often much more deftructive of good morals, and it is ca- pable of eftabliftiing, as lawful and blamelefs, par- ticular actions, which (hock the plained principles
of right and wrong.
Can
288 0//^Inflvence Part V.
Can there be greater barbarity, for example, than to hurt an infant? Its helpleflhefs, its innocence, its amiablenefs, call forth the compaflion even of an enemy, and not to fpare that tender age is re- garded as the molt furious effort of an enraged and cruel conqueror. What then mould we imagine mull be the heart of a parent who could injure that weaknefs which even a furious enemy is afraid to vio- late ? Yet the expofition, that is, the murder of new- born infants, was a practice allowed of in almoft all the dates of Greece, even among the polite and civi- lized Athenians-, and whenever the circurnftances of the parent rendered it inconvenient to bring up the child, to abandon it to hunger, or to wild beads, was regarded without blame or cenfure. This prac- tice had probably begun in times of the mod favage barbarity. The imaginations of men had been fir ft made familiar with it in that earlieft period of focie- ty, and the uniform continuance of the cuftom had hindered them afterwards from perceiving its enor- mity. We find, at this day, that this practice pre- vails among; all favage nations : and in that rtideft and lowed date of fociety it is undoubtedly more pardonable than in any other. The extreme indi- gence of a favage is often fuch that he himfelf is fre- quently expofed to the greated extremity of hunger, he often dies of pure want, and it is frequently im- poflible for him to fupport both himfelf and his child. We cannot wonder, therefore, that in this cafe he mould* abandon it. One who in flying from an. enemy, whom it was impoflible torefift, fliould' throw down his infant, becaufe it retarded his flight, would furely be excufeable ; fince, by attempting to fave it, he could orTiy hope for the confolation of
dying
Chap. lJ. of C u s t o m. 289
dying with it. That in this ftate of fociety, there- fore, a parent fhould be allowed to judge whether he can bring up his child, ought not to furprife us fo greatly. In the latter ages of Greece, however, the fame thing was permitted from views of remote in- tereft or conveniency, which could by no means ex- cufe it. Uninterrupted cuftom had by this time fo thoroughly authorized the practice, that not only the loofe maxims of the world tolerated this barbarous prerogative, but even the doctrine of philofophers, which ought to have been more juft and accurate, was led away by the eftabiifried cuftom, and upon this, as upon many other occafions, inftead of cenfuring, Supported the horrible abufe, by far- fetched confederations of public utility. Ariftotle talks of it as of what the magistrate ought upon many occafions to encourage. The humane Plato is of the fame opinion, and, with all that love of mankind which feems to animate all his writ- ings, no where marks this practice with difappro- bation. When cuftom can give fanction to fo dread- ful a violation of humanity, we may well imagine that there is fcarce any particular practice fo grofs which it cannot authorize. Such a thing, we hear men every day faying, is commonly done, and they feem to think this a fufficient apology for what, in itfelf, is the molt unjuft and unreasonable con- dud.
There is an obvious reafon why cuftom mould never pervert our fentiments with regard to the general ftyle and character of conduct and behavi- our, in the fame degree as with regard to the pro- priety, or unlawfulnefs of particular ufages. There
U never
290 Of the Influence, &c. Part V.
never can be any fuch cuftom. No fociety could fubfift a moment, in which the ufual drain of mens conduct and behaviour was of a piece with the hor- rible practice I juft now mentioned.
ttNy-^HMPP
1
PART
PART VI.
Of Syftems of Moral Philosophy.
CONSISTING OF FOUR SECTIONS.
SECTION I.
Of the queftions which ought to be examined in a theory of moral fentiments.
IF we examine the moft celebrated and remarka- ble of the different theories which have been given concerning the nature and origin of our moral fenti- ments, we fnall find that almoft all of them coincide with fome part or other of that which I have been endeavouring to give an account of; and that if every thing which has already been faid be fully con- fidered, we fhall be at no lofs to explain what was the view or afpect of nature which led each particu- lar author to form his particular fyftem. From fome one or other of thofe principles which I have been endeavouring to unfold, every fyftem of morality that ever had any reputation in the world has, per- haps, ultimately been derived. As they are all of them, in this refpecl, founded upon natural princi- ples, they are all of them in fome meafure in the right. But as many of them are derived from a par-
U % tiai
292 O/Systems Part VL
tial and imperfect view of nature, there are many of them too in fome refpects in the wrong.
In treating of the principles of morals there are two queftions to be confidered. Firft, wherein does virtue confift ? Or what is the tone of temper, and tenour of conduct, which constitutes the excellent and praife-worthy character, the character which is the natural object of efteem, honour, and approba- tion ? and fecondly, by what power or faculty in the mind is it, that this character, whatever it be, is re- commended to us ? Or in other words, how and by what means does it come to pafs, that the mind prefers one tenour of conduct to another, denomi- nates the one right and the other wrong ; confiders the one as the object of approbation, honour, and reward, and the other of blame, cenfure, and pu- nifhment ?
"We examine the firft queftion when we confider whether virtue confifts in benevolence, as Dr. Hutche- fon imagines ; or in acting iuitably to the different relations we ftand in, as Dr. Clarke fuppofes ; or in the wife and prudent purfuit of our own real and fo- lid happinefs, as has been the opinion of others.
We examine the fecond queftion, when we con- fider, whether the virtuous character, whatever it confifts in, be recommended to us by felf-love, which makes us perceive that this character, both in ourfelves and others, tends mod to promote our own private intereft ; or by reafon, which points out to us the difference between one character and another, in the fame manner as it does that between truth and falfehoodj or by^ii peculiar power of perception,
called
Sed. I. <?/ Moral Philosophy. 293
called a moral fenfe, which this virtuous character gratifies and pleafes, as the contrary difgufts and difpleafes it ; or laft of all, by fome other principle in human nature, fuch as a modification of fympa- thy, or the like.
I fhall begin with confidering the fyflems which have been formed concerning the firft of thefe ques- tions, and fhall proceed afterwards to examine thofe concerning the fecond.
j.4. i
U 2 SEC-
294 0/ S y s t e m s Part VI
SECTION II.
Of the different accounts which have been given of the nature of virtue.
INTRODUCTION,
T,
H E different accounts which have been given of the nature of virtue, or of the temper of mind which conftitutes the excellent and praife-worthy character, may be reduced to three different claffes. According to fome, the virtuous temper of mind does not confift in any one fpecies of affections, but in the proper government and direction of all our af- fections, which may be either virtuous or vicious ac- cording to the objects which they purfue, and the degree of vehemence with which they purfue them. According to thefe authors, therefore, virtue con- fifts in propriety.
According to others, virtue confifts in the judici- ous purfuit of our own private jntereft and happi- neis, or in the proper government and direction of thofe felfifh affections which aim folely at this end. In the opinion of thefe authors, therefore, virtue confifts in prudence.
Another fet of authors make virtue confift in thofe affections only which aim at the happinefs of others, not in thofe which aim at our own. Ac- cording to them, therefore, difinterefted benevolence
is
Sect. II. ^ Moral Philosophy. 295
is the only motive which can ftamp upon any action the character of virtue.
The character of virtue, it is evident, muft either be afcribed indifferently to all our affections, when under proper government and direction •, or it muft be confined to fome one clafs or divifion of them. The great divifion of our affections is into the felfilh and the benevolent. If the character of virtue, therefore, cannot be afcribed indifferently to all our affections, when under proper government and di- rection, it muft be confined either to thofe which aim directly at our own private happinefs, or to thofe which aim directly at that of others. If virtue, therefore, does not confift in propriety, it muft confift either in prudence or in benevolence. Befides thefe three, it is fcarce poflible to imagine that any other account can be given of the nature of virtue. I fhall endea- vour to fhew hereafter how all the other accounts, which are feemingly different from any of thefe, coincide at bottom with fome one or other of them.
CHAP. I.
Of thofe fyftems which make virtue confift in pro- priety.
A
CCORDING to Plato, to Ariftotle, and to Zeno, virtue confifts in the propriety of conduct, or in the fuitablenefs of the affection from which we act to the object which excites it.
I. In the fyftem of Plato * the foul is confidered as fomething like a little ftate or republic, compofed of three different faculties or orders,
U 4 The
* $ee Plato de Rep. lib. iy.
296 O/Systems Part VI.
The firft is the judging faculty, the faculty which determines not only what are the proper means for at- taining any end, but alfo what ends are fit to be pur- fued, and what degree of relative value we ought to put upon each. This faculty Plato called, as it is very properly called reafon, and confidered it as what had a right to be ^the governing principle of the whole. Under this appellation, it is evident, he comprehended not only that faculty by which we judge of truth and falfehood, but that by which we judge of the propriety or impropriety of defires and affections.
The different paflions and appetites, the natural fubject of this ruling principle, but which are fo apt to rebel againft their matter, he reduced to two dif- ferent clafies or orders. The firft confided of thole paftions, which are founded in pride and refentment, or in what the fchoolmen called the irafcible part of fhe foul ; ambition, animofity, the love of honour, and the dread of fhame, the defire of victory, fu- periority, and revenge •, all thofe pafiions, in fhort, which are fuppofed either to rife from, or to denote what, by a metaphor in our language, we commonly call fpirit or natural fire. The fecond confided of thofe paffions which are founded in the love of plea- fure, or in what the fchoolmen called the concupif- cible part of the foul. It comprehended all the appe- tites of the body, the love of eafe and fecurity, and of all fenfual gratifications.
It rarely happens that we break in upon that plan of conduct, which the governing principle prefcribes, and which in all our cool hours we had laid down to ouriclves as what was molt proper for us to purfue,
but
Se<5b. II. 0/ Moral Philosophy. 297
but when prompted by one or other of thofe two different fets of paflions -, either by ungovernable ambition and refentment, or by the importunate ib- licitations of prefent eale and plealure. But though thefe two orders of paflions are fo apt to miflead us, they are (till confidered as neceflary parts of human natur'e : the fir ft having been given to defend us againft injuries, to aflfert our rank and dignity in the world, to make us aim at what is noble and ho- nourable, and to make us diftinguifh thofe who act in the fame manner ; the fecond to provide for the fupport and nccefiities of the body.
In the ftrength, acutenefs, and perfection of the governing principle was placed the eflential virtue of prudence, which, according to Plato, confifted in a juft and clear difcernment, founded upon general and fcientific ideas, of the ends which were proper to be purfued, and of the means which were proper for attaining them.
When thefirfl fet of paflions, thofe of the irafcible part of the foul, had that degree of ftrength and ntmnefs, which enabled them, under the direction of reafon, to defpife all dangers in the purfuit of what was honourable and noble ; it conftituted the virtue of fortitude and magnanimity. This order of paflions, according to this fyftem, was of a more ge- nerous and noble nature than the other. They were confidered upon many occafions as the auxiliaries of reafon, to check and reftrain the inferior and brutal appetites. We are often angry at ourfelves, it was obferved, we often become the objects of our own re- fentment and indignation, when the love of pleafure prompts to do what we difapprove of 5 and the irafci- ble
2o8 of Systems Part VI.
ble part of our nature is in this manner called in to aiTift the rational againft the concupifcibie.
When all thofe three different parts of our nature were in perfect concord with one another, when neither the irafcible nor concupifcibie paiTions ever aimed at any gratification which reafon did not approve of, and when reafon never commanded any thing, but what thefe of their own accord were willing to per- form ; this happy compofure, this perfect and com- plete harmony of foul, conftituted that virtue which in their language is exprefTed by a word which we commonly tranflate temperance, but which might more properly be tranflated good temper, or fobriety and moderation of mind.
Juftice, the laft and greateft of the four cardinal virtues, took place, according to this fyftem, when each of thofe three faculties of the mind confined it- felf to its proper office, without attempting to en- croach upon that of any other*, when reafon directed and paflion obeyed, and when each pailion perform- ed its proper duty, and exerted itfelf towards its proper object eafdy and without reluctance, and with that degree of force and energy, which was fuitable to the value of what it purfued. In this confided that complete virtue, that perfect propriety of con- duct, which Plato, after fome of the ancient Pythago- reans, denominated Juftice.
the word, ft is to be obferved, which expreffes juf- tice in the Greek lansuaor, has feveral different mean- ings j and as the correfpondent word in ail other lan- guages, fo far as 1 know, has the fame, there muft be fome natural affinity among thofe various fignifkations.
in
5ect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 299
In onefenfe we are laid to do juftice to our neigh- bour when we abftain from doing him any pofitive harm, and do not directly hurt him, either in his perfon, or in his eftate, or in his reputation. This is thatjudice which I have treated of above, the ob- fervance of which may be extorted by force, and the violation of which expofes to punifhment. In ano- ther fenfe we are faid not to do judice to our neigh- bour unlefs we conceive for him all that love, refpect and edeem, which his character, his fuuation, and his connexion with ourfelves, render fuitable and proper for us to feel, and unlefs we act according- ly. It is in this fenfe that we are faid to do injuRice to a man of merit who is connected with us, tho' we abftain from hurting him in every refpect, if we do not exert ourfelves to ferve him and to place him in that fuuation in which the impartial fpectator would be pleafed to fee him. The fird fenfe of the word coincides with what Aridotle and the School- men call commutative juliice, and with what Gro- tius calls the j 'uji itia expletrix, which confids in ab- flaining from what is another's, and in doing volun- tarily whatever we can with propriety be forced to do. The fecond fenfe of the word coincides with what fome have called didributive judice*, and with xhejujlitia attributrix of Grotius, which conlifts in proper beneficence, in the becoming ufe of what is our own, and in the applying it to thofe purpoies either of charity or generolity, to which it is mod fuitable, in our fuuation, that it mould be applied. In this fenfe judice comprehends all the focial virtues. ' There
* The diftributive juftice of Ariftotle is fomewhat different. It confifts in the proper diftribution of rewards from the public flock of a community. See Ariftotle Ethic. Nic. 1. 5. c. .?.
joo Of Systems Part VL
There is yet another fenfe in which the word juftice is fometimes taken, (till more extenfive than either of the former, though very much a-kin to the laft j and which runs too, fo far as I know, through all languages. It is in this lad fenfe that we are faid to beunjuft, when we do not feem to value any parti- cular object with that degree of efteem, or to purfue it with that degree of ardour which to the impartial fpectator it may appear to deferve or to be naturally fitted for exciting. Thus we are faid to do injuftice to a poem or a picture, when we do not admire them enough, and we are faid to do them more than juftice when we admire them too much. In the fame man- ner we are faid to do injuftice to ourfelves when we appear not to give fufricient attention to any particu- lar object of felf-intereft. In this laft fenfe, what is called juftice means the fame thing with exact and perfect propriety of conduct and behaviour, and com- prehends in it, not only the offices of both commu- tative and distributive juftice, but of every other vir- tue, of prudence, of fortitude, of temperance. It is in this laft fenfe that Plato evidently underftands what he calls juftice, and which, therefore, according to him, comprehends in it the perfection of every fort of virtue.
Such is the account given by Plato of the nature of virtue, or of that temper of mind which is the proper object of praife and approbation. It confifts, according to him, in that ftate of mind in which eve- ry faculty confines itfelf within its proper fphere without encroaching upon that of any other, and performs its proper office with that precife degree of ftrength and vigour which belongs to it. His ac- count, it is evident^ coincides in every refpect with
what
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 301
what we have faid above concerning the propriety of conduct.
II. Virtue, according to Ariftotle *, confifts in the habit of mediocrity according to right reafon. Every particular virtue, according to him, lies in a kind of middle between two oppolite vices, of which the one offends from being too much, the other from being too little affected by a particular fpecies of ob- jects. Thus the virtue of fortitude or courage lies in the middle between the oppofite vices of cowardice and of prefumptuous rafhnefs, of which the one offends from being too much, and the other from be- ing too little affected by the objects of fear. Thus too the virtue of frugality lies in a middle between avarice and profufion, of which the one confifts in an excefs, the other in a defect of the proper attention to the objects of felf-intereft. Magnanimity, in the fame manner, lies in a middle between the excefs of arrogance and the defect of pufillanimity, of which, the one confifts in too extravagant, the other in too weak a fentiment of our own worth and dignity. It is unneceffary to obferve that this account of virtue correfponds too pretty exactly with what has been faid above concerning the propriety and impropriety of conduct.
According to Ariftotle f , indeed, virtue did not fo much confift: in thofe moderate and right affecti- ons, as in the habit of this moderation. In order to underftand this, it is to be obferved, that virtue may be confidered either as the quality of an action, or
as
* See Ariftotle Ethic. Nic. I. 2. c. 5. et feq. et I. 3. c 5. et 'feq.
f See Ariftotle Ethic. Nic. lib. ii. ch. 1 2. 3. and 4.
302 0/Systems Part VI.
as the quality of a perfon. Confidered as the qua- lity of an action, it coniifts, even according to Arif- totle, in the reafonable moderation of the affection from which the action proceeds, whether this difpo- ikion be habitual to the perion or not. Confidered as the quality of a perfon, it confifts in the habit of this reafonable moderation, in its having become the cuiiomary and ufual difpofition of the mind. Thus the action which proceeds from an occafional fit of generality is undoubtedly a generous action, but the man who performs it, is not necefTarily a generous perfon, becaufe it may be the fingle action of the kind which he ever performed. The motive and difpofition of heart, from which this action was per- formed, may have been quite juft and proper : but as this happy mood feems to have been the effect rather of accidental humour than of any thing fteady or permanent in the character, it can reflect no great honour on the performer. When we denominate a character generous or charitable, or virtuous in any refpect, we mean to fignify that the difpofition ex- preffed by each of thofe appellations is the ufual and cuftomary difpofition of the perfon. But fingle actions 'of any kind, how proper and fuitable foever, are of little confequence to fhow that this is the cafe. If a fingle action was fufficient to (lamp the character of any virtue upon the perfon who performed it, the mod worthlefs of mankind might lay claim to all the virtues ; fince there is no man who has not, upon fome occafions, acted with prudence, juftice, tem- perance, and fortitude. But though fingle actions, how laudable foever, reflect very little praife upon the perfon who performs them, a fingle vicious action performed by one wtjofe conduct is ufually very re- gular, greatly diminifhes and fometimes deflroys al- together
Se6t.IL ^/ Moral Philosophy. 303
together our opinion of his virtue. A Tingle action of this kind fufficiently fhows that his habits are not perfect, and that he is lefs to be depended upon, than, from the ufual train of his behaviour, we might have been apt to imagine.
Ariftotle too *, when he made virtue to confift in practical habits, had it probably in his view to op- pofe the doctrine of Plato, who feems to have been of opinion that juft fentiments and reafonable judg- ments concerning what was fit to be done or to be avoided, were alone fufficient to conftitute the moll perfect virtue. Virtue, according to Plato, might be confidered as a fpecies of fcience, and no man, he thought, could fee clearly and demonftratively what was right and what was wrong, and not act accord- ingly. Paflion might make us act contrary to doubt- ful and uncertain opinions, not to plain and evident judgments. Ariftotle, on the contrary, was of opi- nion, that no conviction of the underftanding was capable of getting the better of inveterate habits, and that good morals arofe not from knowledge but from action.
III. According to Zeno +, the founder of the ftoical doctrine, every animal was by nature recom- mended to its own care, and was endowed with the principle of felf-love, that it might endeavour to preferve, not only its exiftence, but all the different parts of its nature, in the bell and mod perfedl ftate of which they were capable.
The
* See Ariftotle Mag. Mor. lib. i. ch. I. t See Cicero de finibus, lib. iii. alfo Diogenes Laertius in Zenone, lib, vii. fegment 84.
3C4 , Of S y s t £ m s Part VL
The felf love of man embraced, if I may fay fo, his body and all its different members, his mind and all its different faculties and powers, and defired the prefervation and maintenance of them all in their belt and moft perfect condition. Whatever tended to fupport this ftate of existence was, therefore, by nature pointed out to him as fit to be cholen ; and whatever tended to deitroy it, as fit to be rejected. Thus health, ftrength, agility, and eafe of body, as well as the external conveniences which could pro- mote theie, wealth, power, honours, the refpect and efteem of thofe we live with, were naturally pointed out to us as things eligible, and of which the pofTef- fion was preferable to the contrary. On the other hand, ficknefs, infirmity, unwieldinefs, pain of body, as well as all the external inconveniencies which tended to occafion or bring on any of them, poverty, the want of authority, the contempt or hatred of thofe we live with •, were, in the fame manner, pointed out to us as things to be fhunned and avoided. In each of thofe two different claffes of objects there were fome which appeared to be more the objects either of choice or rejection than others in the fame clafs. Thus, in the nrfl clafs, health appeared evi- dently preferable to ftrength, and ftrength to agility ; reputation to power, and power to riches. And thus too, in the fecond clafs, ficknefs was more to be avoided than unwieldinefs of body, ignominy than poverty, and poverty than the want of authority. Virtue and the propriety of conduct conftfted in choofing and rejeding all different objects and cir- cumftances according as they were by nature rendered more or lefs the objects of choice or rejection; in felefting always from among the feveral objects of choice prefented tcTus, that which was moft to be
chofen,
Sect. II. <?/ Moral Philosophy, 305
chofen, when we could not obtain them all : and in felecting too out of the feveral objects of rejection offered to us, that which was leaft to be avoided, when it was not in our power to avoid them all. By choofing and rejecting with this juft and accurate dis- cernment, by thus bellowing upon every object the precife degree of attention it deferved, according to the place which it held in this natural fcale of things, we maintained, according to the Stoics, that perfect rectitude of conduct which conttituted the elTence of virtue. . This was what they called to live confift- ently, to live according to nature, and to obey thofe laws and directions which nature, or the Author of nature, had prefcribed for our conduct. -
So far the Stoical idea of propriety and virtue is not very different from that of Ariltotle and the an- tient peripatetics. What chiefly diftinguifhed thofe two fyltenvs from one another was the different de- grees of felf-command which they required. The peripatetics allowed of fome degree of perturbation as fuitable to the weaknefs of human nature, and as ufeful to fo imperfect a creature as man. If his own misfortunes excited no palTionate grief, if his own in- juries palled forth no lively refentment, reafon, or a regard to the general rules which determined what was right and fit to be done, would commonly, they thought, be too weak to prompt him to avoid the one or to beat off the other. The Stoics, on the contrary, demanded the molt perfect apathy, and re- garded every emotion which could in the fmalleit de- gree dilturb the tranquillity of the mind, as the ef-~ feet of levity and folly. The Peripatetics feem to have thought that no paiTion exceeded the bounds of propriety as long as the fpectator, by the utmoft ef-
X fort
3©6 Of StsiEMs Part VL
fort of humanity, could fympathize with it. The Stoics, on the contrary, appear to have regarded every pafTion as improper, which made any demand upon the fympathy of the fpectator, or required him to alter in any refpect the natural and ordinary Hate of his mind, in order to keep time with the vehe- mence of its emotions. A man of virtue, they feem to have thought, ought not to depend upon the generofity of thofe he lives with for pardon or approbation.
According to the Stoics, every event ftiould, to a wife man, appear indifferent, and what for its own fake could be the object neither of defire, nor aver- sion, neither of joy, nor forrow. If' he preferred fome events to others, if fome fituations were the ob- jects of his choice, and others of his rejection, * it was not, becaufe he regarded the one as, in them- felves, in any refpect better than the other, or thought that his own happinefs would be more complete in, what is called, the fortunate, than in what is com- monly regarded as the diflrefsful fituation ; but be- caufe the propriety of action, the rule which the gods had given him for the direction of his conduct, required him to choofe and reject in this manner. Among the primary objects of natural inclination, or among thofe things which nature had originally re- commended to us as eligible, was the profperity, of our family, of our relations, of our friends, of our country, of mankind, and of the univerfe in general. Nature too had taught us that as the profperity of
two
* Some of thefe^exprefiions found a little aukward in the Englim language : they are literal translations of the technical terms of the Stoics,
Sedt. II. ^/Moral Philosophy. 307
two was preferable to that of one, that of many or of all muft be infinitely more fo. That we ourfelves were but one, and that confequently wherever our profperity, was inconfiftent with that, either of the whole, or of any confiderable part of the whole, ic ought,, even in our own choice, to yield to what was fo valtly preferable. As all the events in this world were conducted by the providence of a wife, pow- erful and good God, we might be aflfured that what- ever happened, tended to the profperity and perfec- tion of the whole. If we ourfelves, therefore, were in poverty, in fickneis, or in any other calamity, we ought, firft of all, to ufe our utmoft endeavours, fo far as juftice and our duty to others would allow, to refcue ourfelves from this difagreeable circumftance. But if after all we could do, we found this impofTi- ble, we ought to reft fatisfied that the order and per- fection of the univerfe required that we mould in the mean time continue in this fituation. And as the profperity of the whole mould, even to us, appear preferable to fo infignificant a part as ourfelves, Our fituation, whatever it was, ought from that moment to become the object of our choice, and even of our defire, if we would maintain that complete propriety and rectitude of fentiment and conduct in which the perfection of our nature confifts. If, indeed, any opportunity of extricating ourfelves (hould offer, it became our duty to embrace it. The order of the univerfe, it was evident, no longer required our con- tinuance in this fituation, and the great director of the world plainly called upon us to leave it, by fo clearly pointing out the road which we were to fol- low. It was the fame cafe with the adverfity of our relations, our friends, our country, If without vio- X z lating
jo8 Of Systems Part VL
lating any more facred obligation, it was in our power to prevent or to put an end to their calamity,, it undoubtedly was onr duty to do fo. The propri- ety of ad ion, the rule which Jupiter had given us for the direction of our conduct, evidently required this of us. But if it was altogether out of our power to do either, we ought then to confider this event as the moft fortunate which could poflibly have hap- pened : Becaufe we might be aflured that it tended moft to the proiperity and order of the whole : which was what we ourfelves, if we were wife and equita- able, ought moft of all to deiire. " In what fenfe, €C fays Epi&etus, are fome things faid to be accord- " inor to our nature, and others contrary to it ? It is " in that fenfe in which we confider oiiifelves as fe- " parated and detached from all other things. For " thus it may be faid to be according to the nature of cc the foot to be always clean. But if you confider *6 it as a foot, and not as fomething detached from the " reft of the body, it muft behove it fometimes to " trample in the dirt, and fometimes to tread upon " thorns, and fometimes too to be cut off for the fake " of the whole body ; and if it refufes this, it is no " longer a foot. Thus too ought we to conceive " with regard to ourfelves. What are you ? A man. " If you confider yourfelf as fomething feparated <c and detached, it is agreeable to your nature to live " to old age, to be rich, to be in health. But if you " confider yourfelf as a man, and as a part of a " whole, upon account of that whole it will behoove " you fometimes to be in ficknefs, fometimes to be ex- " pofed to the inconveniency of a fea voyage, fome- ■ times to be in want ; and at lad, perhaps, to die " before your tirrfc. "Why then do you complain ?
" Don't
Se&. IT. sf Moral Philosophy. 309
*? Don't you know that by doing fo, as the foot ceaies " to be a foot, fo you ceafe to be a man ?" *
This fubmiffion to the order of the univerfe, this entire indifference with regard to whatever concerns ourfelves, when put into the balance with the intereit of the whole, could derive its propriety, it is evident, from no other principle befides that, upon which I have endeavoured to fhow, the propriety of juitice was founded. As long as we view our own interefts with our own eyes, it is fcar.ee poffible that we fhottld willingly acquiefce in their being thus facrificed to the interefts of the whole. It is only when we view thofe oppofite interefts with the eyes of others, that what concerns ourfelves can appear to be fo con- temptible in the companion, as to be refigned with- out any reluctance. To every body but the perfon principally concerned, nothing can appear more agreeable to reafon and propriety than that the part Ihould give place to the whole. But what is agree- able to the reafon of all other men, ought not to ap- pear contrary to his. He himfelf therefore ought to approve of this facrifice, and acknowledge its confor- mity to reafon. But all the affections of a wife man, according to the ftoics, are perfectly agreeable to rea- fon and propriety, and of their own accord coincide with whatever thefe ruling principles prefcribe. A wife man, therefore, could never feel any reluctance to comply with this difpolition of things.
IV. Befides thefe ancient, there are fome modern fyftems, according to which virtue confifls in propri- ety j oc in the mitablenefs of the affection from which
X 3 we
* Arrian. lib. II. c. s.
gio Of Systems Part VI
we ad, to the caufe or object which excites it. The fyftem of Dr. Clarke, which places virtue in acting according to the relations of things, in regulating our conduct according to the fitnefs or incongruity which there may be in the application of certain actions to certain things, or to certain relations : That of Mr. Woolafton, which places it in acting ac- cording to the truth of things, according to their proper nature and eiTence, or in treating them as what they really are, and not as what they are not : tfoat of my lord Shaftefbury, which places it in main- taining a proper balance of the affections, and in al- lowing no paifion to go beyond its proper fphere ; are all of them more or lefs inaccurate defcriptions of the fame fundamental idea.
The defcription of virtue which is either given, or at lead meant and intended to be given in each of thofe fyftems, for fome of the modern authors are not very fortunate in their manner of exprefiing themfelves, is no doubt quite juft, fo far as it goes. There is no virtue without propriety, and wherever there is propriety, fome degree of approbation is due. But (till this defcription is imperfect. For though propriety is an eflential ingredient in every virtuous action, it is not always the fole ingredient. Beneficent actions have in them another quality by which they appear not only to deferve approbation but recompenfe. None of thofe fyftems account either eafily or fufficiently for that fuperior degree of efteem which feems due to fuch actions, or for that diverfity of fentiment which they naturally ex- cite. Neither is the defcription of vice more com- plete. For in the fame manner, though impropriety is a necelTary ingredient in every vicious action, it is
not
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 311*
not always the fole ingredient, and there is often the higheft degree of abfurdity and impropriety in very harmlefs and infignificant actions. Deliberate ani- ons, of a pernicious tendency to thofe we live with, have, befides their impropriety, a peculiar quality of their own by which they appear to deferve, not only difapprobation, but punifhment ; and to be the ob- jects, not of diflike merely, but of refentment and revenge : and none of thofe fyftems eafily and fuffi- ently account for that fuperior degree of defoliation which we feel for fuch ad ions.
CHAP. u.
Of thofe fyftems which make virtue confift in pru- dence.
H E mod ancient of thofe fyftems which make virtue confift: in prudence, and of which any confi- derable remains have come down to us, is that of Epicurus, who is faid, however, to have borrowed all the leading principles of his philofophy, from fome of thofe who had gone before him, particularly from Ariftippus ; though it is very probable, not- withstanding this allegation of his enemies, that at lead his manner of applying thofe principles was al- together his own.
According to Epicurus, * bodily pleafure and
pain were the fole ultimate objects of natural defire
and averfion. That they were always the natural
objects of thofe paffions, he thought required no
X 4 proof.
* See Cicero de finibus, lib. i. Diogenes Laert. 1. x.
312 0/ S y s t e m s Part VI.
proof. Pleafure might, indeed, appear fometimes to be avoided ; not, however, becaufe it was plea- fure, but becaufe, by the enjoyment of ir, we mould either forfeit fome greater pleafure, or expofe our- felves to fome pain that was more to be avoided than this pleafure was to be defired. Pain, in the fame manner, might appear fometimes to be eligible-, not, however, becaufe it was pain, but becaufe by en- during it we might either avoid a ftill greater pain, or acquire fome pleafure of much more importance. That bodily pain and pleafure, therefore, were al- ways the natural objects of defire and averlion, was, he thought, abundantly evident. Nor was it lefs fo, he imagined, that they were the fole ultimate objects of thofe paiTions. Whatever elfe was either defired or avoided was fo, according to him, upon account of its tendency to produce one or other of thofe fen- fations. The tendency to procure pleasure rendered power and riches defirable, as the contrary tendency to produce pain made poverty and infignificancy the objects of averfion. Honour and reputation were valued, becaufe the efteem and love of thofe we live with were of the greateft confequence both to pro- cure pleafure and to defend us from pain. Ignominy and bad fame, on the contrary, were to be avoided, becaufe the hatred, contempt, and refentment of thofe we lived with deftroyed all fecurity, and ne- ceffarily expofed us to the greateft bodily evils.
All the pleafures and pains of the mind were, ac- cording to Epicurus, ultimately derived from thofe of the body. The mind was happy when it thought of the'paft pleafures of the body, and hoped for others to come : and it was miferable when it thought ^ of
Seel, i I. of Moral Philosophy. 313
of the pains which the body had formerly endured, and dreaded the fame or greater thereafter.
But the pleafures and pains of the mind, though ultimately derived from thofe of the body, were vaftly greater than their originals. The body felt only the fenfation of the prefent inftant, whereas the mind felt alfo the paft and the future, the one by remembrance, the other by anticipation, and confe- quently both fuffered and enjoyed much more. When we are under the greateft bodily pain, he ob- ferved, we mall always find, if we attend to it, that it is not the fuffering of the prefent inflant which chiefly torments us, but either the agonizing re- membrance of the paft, or the yet more horrible dread of the future. The pain of each inftant, confidered by itieif, and cut off from all that goes before and all that comes after it, is a trifle not worth the regard- ing. Yet this is all which the body can ever be faid to fuffer. In the fame manner, when we enjoy the greateft pleafure, we Jhall always find that the bodily fenfation, the feniation of the prefent inflant makes but a Imall part of our happinefs, that our enjoy- ment chiefly arifes either from the cheerful recollec- tion of the paft, or the ftill more joyous anticipation of the future, and that the mind always contributes by much the largeft fhare of the entertainment.
Since our happinefs and mifery, therefore, de- pended chiefly on the mind, if this part of our na- ture was well difpofed, if our thoughts and opinions were as they fhould be, it was of little importance in what manner our body was affected. Though under great bodily pain, we might ftill enjoy a con- fiderable fhare of happinefs, if our reafon and judg- ment
314 of Systems Part VI/
ment maintained their fuperiority. We might en- tertain ourfelves with the remembrance of pall, and with the hopes of future pleafure; we might (often the rigour of our pains, by recollecting what it was which, even in this fituation, we were under any ne- cefiity of fuftering. That this was merely the bodily fenfation, the pain of the prefent inftant, which by itfelf could never be very great. That whatever agony we fuffered from the dread of its continuance was the effect of an opinion of the mind, which might be corrected by jufter fentiments ; by confidering that, if our pains were violent, they would proba- bly be of fhort duration ; and that if they were of long continuance, they would probably be moderate, and admit of many intervals of eafe; and that, at any rate, death was always at hand and within call to deliver us, which as, according to him, it put an end to all fenfation, either of pain or pleafure, could not be regarded as an evil. When we are, faid he, death is not ; and when death is, we are not -, death therefore can be nothing to us.
If the actual fenfation of pofitive pain was in it- felf fo little to be feared, that of pleafure was ftill lefs to be defired. Naturally the fenfation of plea- fure was much lefs pungent than that of pain. If, therefore, this laft could take fo very little from the happinefs of a well difpofed mind, the other could add fcarce any thing to it. When the body was free from pain and the mind from fear and anxiety, the fuperadded fenfation of bodily pleafure could be of very little importance-, and though it might di- verfify, could not be properly be faid to increafe the happinefs of this fituation.
In
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 215
In eafe of body, therefore, and in fecurity or tran- quillity of mind, confided, according to Epicurus, the moil perfect ftate of human&nature, the moft complete happinefs which man was capable of en- joying. To obtain this great end of natural defire was the fole object of all the virtues, which, accord- ing to him, were not defirable upon their own ac- count, but upon account of their tendency to bring about this fituation.
Prudence, for example, though according to this philofophy, the fource and principle of all the vir- tues, was not defirable upon its own account. That careful and laborious and circumfpect ftate of mind, ever watchful and ever attentive to the moft diftant confequences of every action, could ndt be a thing pleafant or agreeable for its own fake, but upon ac- count of its tendency to procure the greateft goods and to keep off the greateft evils.
To abftain from pleafure too, to curb and ref- train our natural paffions for enjoyment, which was the office of temperance, could never be defirable for its own fake. The whole value of this virtue arofe from its utility, from its enabling us to poft- pone the prefent enjoyment for the fake of a greater to come, or to avoid a greater pain that might enfue from it. Temperance, in fhort, was nothing but prudence with regard to pleafure.
To fupport labour, to endure pain, to be expofed to danger or to death, the fituations which fortitude would often lead us into, were furely (till lefs the objects of natural defire. They were chofen only to avoid greater evils. We fubmitted to labour, in or- der
3x6 Of Systems Part VI.
der to avoid the greater fhame and pain of poverty, and we expofed ourielves to danger and to death in defence of our liberty and property, the means and inftruments of pleafure and happinefs •, or in defence of our country, in the fafety of which our own was necefiarily comprehended. Fortitude enabled us to do all this cheerfully, as the beft which, in our pre- lent fituation, could poMibly be done, and was in reality no more than prudence, good judgment, and prefence of mind in properly appreciating pain, la- bour, and danger, always choofing the lefs in order to avoid the greater.
It is the fame cafe with juftice. To abftain from what is another's was not defirableon its own account, and it could not furely be better for you, that I fhould poflefs what is my own, than that you mould pofieis it. You ought however, to abftain from whatever belongs to me, becaufe by doing otherwife you will provoke the refentment and indignation of mankind. The fecurity and tranquillity of your mind will be entirely defiroyed. You will be filled with fear and confirmation at the thought of that punifhment which you will imagine that men are at all times ready to inflict upon you, and from which no power, no art, no concealment, will ever, in your own fancy, be fufficient to protect you. That other fpecies of juftice which confifts in doing proper good offices to different perfons, according to the various relations of neighbours, kinfmen, friends, benefac- tors, fuperiors, or equals, which they may ftand in to us, is recommended by the fame reafons. To act properly in all thefe different relations procures us the efteem and love of thofe we live with ; as to do otherwife excites th*ir contempt and hatred. By the
one
Sect. II. c/ Moral Philosophy. bip
one we naturally fecure, by the other we neceflarily endanger our own eafe and tranquillity, the great and ultimate objects of all our defires. The whole virtue of juftice, therefore, the moil important of all the virtues, is no more than difcreet and prudent con- duct with regard to our neighbours.
Such is the doctrine of Epicurus concerning the nature of virtue. It may feem extraordinary that this philofopher, who is defcribed as a perfon of the mod amiable manners, mould never have obferved, that, whatever may be the tendency of thofe virtues, or of the contrary vices, with regard to our bodily eafe and fecurity, thr fentiments which they natural- ly excite in others are the objects of a much more paflionate defire or averfion than all their other con- fequences ; That to be amiable, to be refpectable, to be the proper object of efteem, is by every well- difpofed mind more valued than all the eafe and fecu- rity which love, refpect, and efteem can procure us \ That, on the contrary, to be odious, to be contempti- ble, to be the proper object of indignation, is more dreadful than all that we can fuffer in our body from hatred, contempt, or indignation •, and that confe- quently our defire of the one character, and our aver- fion to the other, cannot arile from any regard to the effects which either of them is likely to produce upon the body.
This fyftem is, no doubt, altogether inconfiftent with that which I have been endeavouring to efta- blifh. It is not difficult, however, to difcover from what phafis, if I may fay fo, from what particular view or afpect of nature, this account of things de- rives its probability. By the wife contrivance of the
Author
3i8 O/Systems Part VI.
Author of nature, virtue is upon all ordinary occafi- ons, ever, with regard to this lifey real wifdom, and the fureft and readied means of obtaining both fafety and advantage. Our fuccefs or difappointment in our undertakings muft very much depend upon the good or bad opinion which is commonly entertained of us, and upon the general difpofuion of thofe we live with, either to affift or to oppofe us. But the belt, the fureft, the eafieft, and the readied way of obtaining the advantageous and of avoiding the un- favourable judgments of others, is undoubtedly to render ourfelves the proper objects of the former and not of the latter. " Do you dtiiic, faid Socrates, " the reputation of a good mufician ? The only fure " way of obtaining it, is to become a good mufician. " Would you defire in the fame manner to be thought " capable of ferving your country either as a general " or as a ftatefman ? The bed way in this cafe too " is really to acquire the art and experience of war " and government, and to become really fit to be a " general or a ftatefman. And in the fame manner "if you would be reckoned fober, temperate, ju ft, M and equitable, the beft way of acquiring this re- ** putation is to become fober, temperate, juft, and " equitable. If you can really render yourfelf amia- " ble, refpectable, and the proper object of efteem, " there is no fear of your not foon acquiring the love, " the refpect, and efteem of thofe you live with." Since the practice of virtue, therefore, is in general fo advantageous, and that of vice lb contrary to our intereft, the confideration of thofe oppofite tenden- cies undoubtedly flamps an additional beauty and propriety upon the one, and a new deformity and impropriety upon tfre other. Temperance, mag- nanimitv, juftice, and beneficence, come thus to
be
Sed. II. of Moral Philosophy. 319
be approved of, not only under their proper charac- ters, but under the additional character of the higheft wifdom and mod real prudence. And in the fame manner the contrary vices of intemperance, pufilla- nimity, injuftice, and either malevolence or fordid felfifhnefs, come to be difapproved of, not only un- der their proper characters, but under the additional character of the moft fhort-fighted folly and weak- nefs. Epicurus appears in every virtue to have at- tended to this fpecies of propriety only. It is that which is moft apt to occur to thofe who are endea- vouring to perfuade others to regularity of conduct. When men by their practice, and perhaps too by their maxims, manifeftly fhow that the natural beauty of virtue is not like to have much effect upon them, how is it poflible to move them but by reprefenting the folly of their conduct, and how much they them- felves are in the end likely to fuffer by it ?
By running up all the different virtues too to this one fpecies of propriety, Epicurus indulged a propen- fity, which is natural to all men, but which philofo- phers in particular are apt to cultivate with a pecu- liar fondnefs, as the great means of difplaying their ingenuity, the propenfity to account for all appear- ances from as few principles as poflible. And he, no doubt, indulged this propenfity flill further, when he referred all the primary objects of natural defire and averfion to the pleafures and pains of the body. The great patron of the atomical philofophy, who took fo much pleafure in deducing all the powers and qualities of bodies from the moft obvious and fami- liar, the figure, motion, and arrangement of the fmall parts of matter, felt no doubt a fimilar fatis- kction, when he accounted, in the fame manner, for
all
3'2o Of S y s t £ u a Part VI.
all the fentiments and pafiions of the mind from thofe which are molt obvious and familiar.
The fyftem of Epicurus agreed with thofe of Pla- to, Arifiotle, and Zeno, in making virtue confift in acting in the mod fuitable manner to obtain the * primary objects of natural defire. It differed from all of them in two other refpects ; firit, in the account which it gave of thofe primary objects of natural de- lire; and fecondly, in the account which it gave of the excellence of virtue, or of the reafon why thai: quality ought to be efteemed.
The primary objects of natural defire confided, according to Epicurus, in bodily pleafure and pain, and in nothing elfe : whereas, according to the other three philofophers, there were many other objects, fuch as knowledge, fuch as the happinefs of our re- lations, of our friends, of our country, which were ultimately defirable for their own fakes.
Virtue too, according to Epicurus, did not deferve to be purfued for its own fake, nor was itfelf one of the ultimate objects of natural appetite, but was eligible only upon account of its tendency to prevent pain and to procure eafe and pleafure. In the opinion of the other three, on the contrary, it was defirable, not merely as the means of procuring the other pri- mary objects of natural defire, but as fomething which was in itfelf more valuable than them all. Man, they thought, being born for adion, his hap- pinefs mult confift, not merely in the agreeablenefs of hispaffive fenfations, but alfo in the propriety of his active exertions.
CHAP.
* Prima naturse.
Sect. Ik of Moral Philosophy^ p,i
CHAP. III.
Of thofe fyftems tvhicb make virtue conjift in bene- volence.
JL H E fyfiem which makes virtue confift in bene- volence, though I think not fo ancient as all of thofe which I have already given an account of, is, how- ever, of very great antiquity. It feems to have been the doctrine of the greater part of thofe philofophers who, about and after the age of Auguftus, called themfelves Eclectics, who pretended to follow chiefly the opinions of Plato and Pythagoras, and who upon that account are commonly known by the name of the later Platonifts;
In the divine nature, according td thefe authors, benevolence or love was the fole principle of action* and directed the exertion of all the other attributes. The wifdom of the Deity was employed in finding out the means for bringing about thofe ends which his goodnefs fuggefted, as his infinite power was ex- erted to execute them. Benevolence, however* was ltill the fupreme and governing attribute* to which the others were fubfervient, and from which the whole excellency, or the whole morality, if I may be al- lowed fuch an expreflion, of the divine operations* was ultimately derived. The whole perfection and virtue of the human mind confided in fome refem- blance or participation of the divine perfections, and, confequently, in being filled with the fame principle
Y it
322 0/ S y s t e m s Part VL
of benevolence and love which influenced all the acti- ons of the deity. The actions of men which flowed from this motive were alone truly praife- worthy, or could claim any merit in the fight of the deity. It was by actions of charity and love only that we could imitate, as became us, the conduct of God, that we could exprefs our humble and devout admi- ration of his infinite perfections, that by foftering in our own minds the fame divine principle, we could bring our own affections to a greater refemblance with his holy attributes, and thereby become more proper objects of his love and efteem j till at laft we arrived at that immediate converfe and communica- tion with the deity to which it was the great object of this philofophy to raife us.
This fyflem, as it was much efteemed by many ancient fathers of the chriftian church, fo aftw the reformation it was adopted by feveral divines of the moft eminent piety and learning, and of the moft amiable manners ; particularly, by Dr. Ralph Cud- worth, by Dr. Henry More, and by Mr. John Smith of Cambridge. But of all the patrons of this fyflem, ancient or modern, the late Dr. Hutchefon, was un- doubtedly beyond all comparifon, the moft: acute, the moft diftinct, the moft philofophical, and what is of th£ greateft confequence of all, the fobereft and moft judicious.
That virtue confifts in benevolence is a notion fupported by many appearances in human nature* It has been obferved already that proper benevo- lence is the moft graceful and agreeable of all the affections, that iuis recommended to us by a double fympathy, that as its tendency is necefTarily benefi- cent,
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 32-3
cent, it is the proper object of gratitude and reward, and that upon all thefe accounts it appears to our natural fentiments to poffefs a merit fuperior to any other. It has been obferved too that even the weak- nefTes of benevolence are not very difagreeable to us, whereas thofe of every other paffion are always ex- tremely difgufting. Who does not abhor exceflive malice, exceflive felfifhnefs, or exceflive refentment ? But the moft exceflive indulgence even of partial friendfhip is not fo offenfive. It is the benevolent paflions only which can exert themfelves without any regard or attention to propriety, and yet retain fomething about them which is engaging. There is fomething pleafing even in mere inftinctive good- will which goes on to do good offices without once reflecting whether by this conduct it is the proper object either of blame or approbation. It is not fa with the other paflions. The moment they are de- ferted, the moment they arc unaccompanied by the fenfe of propriety, they ceafe to be agreeable.
As benevolence beftows upon thofe actions which proceed from it, a beauty fuperior to all others, fo the want of it, and much more the contrary inclina* tion, communicates a peculiar deformity to whatever evidences fuch a difpofnion. Pernicious actions are often punifhable for no other reafon than becaufe they fhow a want of fufficient attention to the happinefs of our neighbour.
Befides all this, Dr. Hutchefon * obferved, that
whenever in any action, fuppofed to proceed from
benevolent affections, fome other motive had been
Y 2 discovered*
* See Inquiry concerning virtue, feet. 1, *nd **.
324 Of Systems Part VI.
difcovered, our fenfe of the merit of this action was juft fo far diminifhed as this motive was believed to have influenced it. If an action, fuppofed to proceed from gratitude, fhould be difcovered to have arifen from an expectation of fome new favour, or if what was apprehended to proceed from public fpirit, mould be found out to have taken its origin from the hope of a pecuniary reward, fuch a difcovery would entirely deftroy all notion of merit or praife-worthinefs in either of thefe actions. Since, therefore, the mixture of any felfifh motive, like that of a bafe alloy, di- minifhed or took away altogether the merit which would otherwife have belonged to any action, it was evident, he imagined, that virtue muft confift in pure and difinterefted benevolence alone.
When thofe actions, on the contrary, which are commonly fuppofed to proceed from a felfifh motive, are difcovered to have arifen from a benevolent one, it greatly enhances our fenfe of their merit. If we believed of any perfon that he endeavoured to ad- vance his fortune from no other view but that of do- ing friendly offices, and of making proper returns to his benefactors, we fhould only love and efteem him the more. And this obfervation feemed (till more to confirm the conclufion, that it was benevolence only which could ftamp upon any action the character of virtue.
Laft of all, what, he imagined, was an evident proof of the juftnefs of this account of virtue, in all the difputes of cafuifts concerning the rectitude of conduct, the public good, he obferved, was the ftandard to whicl> they conftantly referred ; thereby univerfally acknowledging that whatever tended to
promote
Sect. IT. c/ Moral Philosophy. 325
promote the happinefs of mankind was right and laudable and virtuous, and the contrary, wrong, blameable, and vicious. In the late debates about pafilve obedience and the right of refiftance, the fole point in controverfy among men of fenfe was, whe- ther univerfal fubmifiion would probably be attended with greater evils than temporary infurre&ions when privileges were invaded. Whether what, upon the whole, tended moft to the happinefs of mankind, was not alfo morally good, was never once, he faid, made a queftion.
Since benevolence, ther efore, was the only mo- tive which could beftow upon any action the charac- ter of virtue, the greater the benevolence which was evidenced by any action, the greater the praife which mull belong to it.
Thofe actions which aimed at the happinefs of a great community, as they demonftrated a more en- larged benevolence than thofe which aimed only at that of a fmaller fyftem, fo were they, likewife, pro- portionally the more virtuous. The moft virtuous of all affections, therefore, was that which embraced as its object the happinefs of all intelligent beings. The leaft virtuous, on the contrary, of thofe to which the character of virtue could in any refpect belong, was that which aimed no further than at the happi- nefs of an individual, fuch as a fon, a brother, a friend.
In directing all our actions to promote the greateil
pofTible good, in fubmitting all inferior affections to
the defire of the general happinefs of mankind, in
regarding ones felf but as one of the many, whofe
Y 3 profperity
326 Of Systems Part VI.
profperity was to be purfued no further than it was confident with, or conducive to that of the whole, confided the, perfection of virtue.
Self-love was a principle which could never be virtuous in any degree or in any direction. It was vicious whenever it obstructed the general good. When it had no other effect than to make the in- dividual take care of his own happinefs, it was merely innocent, and tho' it deferved no praife, neither ought it to incur any blame. Thofe benevolent actions which were performed, notwithstanding fome ftrong motive from felf-intereft, were the more vir- tuous upon that account. They demonftrated the ftrength and vigour of the benevolent principle.
Dr. Hutchefon * was fo far from allowing felf- love to be in any cafe a motive of virtuous actions, that even a regard to the pleafure of felf-approbation, to the comfortable applaufe of our own confciences, according to him, diminifhed the merit of a benevo- lent action. This was a felfifh motive, he thought, which, fo far as it contributed to any action, demon- ftrated the weaknefs of that pure and difinterefted benevolence which could alone ftamp upon the con- duct of man the character of virtue. In the com- mon judgments of mankind, however, this regard to trje approbation of our own minds is fo far from being confidered as what can in any refpect diminifh the virtue of any action, tliat it is rather looked upon as the fole motive which deferves the appellation of virtuous.
Such
* Inquiry concerning virtue, fed. 2. art. 4. alfo illuftrations on the moral fenfe, feet. 5. laft paragraph.
Se<St. II- of Moral Philosophy. 327
Such is the account given of the nature of virtue in this amiable fyftem, a fyftem which has a peculiar tendency to nourifh and fupport in the human heart the nobleft and the molt agreeable of all affections, and not only to check the injuftice of felf-love, but in fome meafure to difcourage that principle altoge- ther, by reprefenting it as what could never reflect any honour upon thofe who were influenced by it.
As fome of the other fyftems which I have already given an account of, do not fufficiently explain from whence arifes the peculiar excellency of the fupreme virtue of beneficence, fo this fyftem feems to have the contrary defeft, of not fufficiently explaining from whence arifes our approbation of the inferior virtues of prudence, vigilance, circumfpection, tem- perance, conftancy, firmnefs. The view and aim of our affections, the beneficent and hurtful effects which they tend to produce, are the only qualities at all at- tended to in this fyftem. Their propriety and im- propriety, their fuitablenefs and unfuitablenefs, to the caule which excites them, are difregarded alto- gether.
Regard to our own private happinefs and intereil too, appear upon many occafions very laudable prin- ciples of ad ion. The habits ofoeconomy, induftry, difcretion, attention, and application of thought, are generally fuppofed to be cultivated from felf- interefted motives, and at the fame time are appre- hended to be very praife-worthy qualities, which de- ferve the efteem and approbation of every body. The mixture of a felfim motive, it is true, feems often to fully the beauty of thofe actions which ought Y 4 to
3^8 Of Systems Part VI.
to arife from a benevolent affection, The caufe of this, however, is not that felf-love can never be the motive of a virtuous action, but that the bene- volent principle appears in this particular cafe to want its due degree of ftrength, and to be altoge- ther unfuitable to its object. The character, there-, fore, feems evidently imperfect, and upon the whole to deferve blame rather than praife. The mixture of a benevolent motive in an action to which felf- love alone ought to be fufficient to prompt us, is not fo apt indeed to diminifh our fenfe of its propri- ety, or of the virtue of the perfon who performs it. We are not ready to fufpect any perfon of being de- fective in felHfhnefs. This is by no means the weak fide of human nature, or the failing of which we are apt to be fufpicious. If we could really believe, however, of any man, that, was it not from a regard to his family and friends, he would not take that proper care of his health, his life, or his fortune, to which felf-prefervation alone ought to be fufficient to prompt him, it would undoubtedly be a failing, thos one of thofe amiable failings, which render a perfon rather the object of pity than of contempt or hatred. It would ftill, however, fomewhat diminifh the dig- nity and refpectablenefs of his character. Carelefs- nefs and want of ceconomy are univerfally difap- proved of, not, however as proceeding from a want of benevolence, but from a want of the proper at- tention to the objects of felf-intereft.
Though the ftandard by which cafuifts fre- quently determine what is right or wrong in human conduct, be its tendency to the welfare or diforder of fociety, it does not follow that a regard to the
welfare
Se6t. II, of Moral Philosophy. 329
welfare of fociety fhould be the fole virtuous motive of action, but only that, in any competition, it ought to cart the balance againft all other motives.
Benevolence may, perhaps, be the fole principle of action in the Deity, and there are feveral, not im- probable, arguments which tend to perfuade us that it is fo. It is not eafy to conceive what other motive an independent and all perfect being, who (lands in need of nothing external, and whofe happinefs is complete in himfelf, can act from. But whatever may be the cafe with the Deity, fo imperfect a crea- ture as man, the fupport of whofe exiftence requires fo many things external to him, muft often act from many other motives. The condition of human na- ture were peculiarly hard, if thofe affections, which, by the very nature of our being, ought frequently to influence our conduct, could upon no occafion appear virtuous, or deferve efteem and commendation from any body.
Thofe three fyftems, that which places virtue in propriety, that which places it in prudence, and that which makes it confift in benevolence, are the principal accounts which have been given of the na- ture of virtue. To one or other of them, all the other defcriptions of virtue, how different foever they may appear, are eafily reducible.
That fyftem which places virtue in obedience to the will of the Deity, may be counted either among thpfe which make it confift in prudence, or among thofe which make it confift in propriety. When it is afked, why we ought to obey the will of the Deity, this queftion, which would be impious and abfurd in the higheft degree, if afked from any doubt that
we
330 O/ S y s t e m s Part VI.
we ought to obey him, can admit but of two differ- ent anfwers. It muft either be faid that we ought to obey the will of the Deity becaufe he is a being of infinite power, who will reward us eternally if we do fo, and punifh us eternally if we do otherwife : Or it mull be faid, that independent of any regard to our own happinefs, or to rewards and punifhments of any kind, there is a congruity and fitnefs that a crea- ture fliould obey its creator, that a limited and imper- fect being mould fubmit to one of infinite and in- comprehenfible perfections. Befides one or other of thefe two it is impofiible to conceive that any other anfwer can be given to this queftion. If the firft an- fwer be the proper one, virtue confifts in prudence, or in the proper purfuit of our own final intereft and happinefs; fince it is upon this account that we are obliged to obey the will of the Deity. If the fecond anfwer be the proper one, virtue muft confift in pro- priety, fince the ground of our obligation to obedi- ence is the fuitablenefs or congruity of the fentiments of humility and fubmiflion to the fuperiority of the object which excites them.
That fyftem which places virtue in utility coincides too with that which makes it confift in propriety. According to this fyftem all thofe qualities of the mind* which are agreeable or advantageous, either to the perfon himfelf or to others, are approved of as virtuous, and the contrary difapproved of as vicious. But the agreeablenefs or utility of any affection de- pends upon the degree which it is allowed to fubfift in. Every affection is ufeful when it is confined to a certain degree of moderation •, and every affection is difadvantageous when it exceeds the proper bounds. According to this fyftem therefore, virtue confifts,
not
Sect. IL of Moral Philosophy. 331
not in any one affection, but in the proper degree of all the affections. The only difference between it and that which I have been endeavouring to eftablifh, is, that it makes utility, and not fympathy, or the correfpondent affection of the fpectator, the natural and original meafure of this proper degree.
CHAP. IV.
Of licentious fyftems.
A
L L thofe fyftems, which I have hitherto given an account of, fuppofe that there is a real and effen ■• tial diftinction between vice and virtue, whatever thefe qualities may confift in. There is a real and effential difference between the propriety and impro- priety of any affection, between benevolence and any other principle of action, between real prudence and fhort- lighted folly or precipitate raihnefs. In the main too all of them contribute to encourage the praife- worthy, and to difcourage the blameable dif- pofuion.
It may be true perhaps, of fome of them, that they tend, in fome meafure, to break the balance of the affections, and to give the mind a particular bias to fome principles of action, beyond the pro- portion that is due to them. The ancient fyftems which place virtue in propriety, feem chiefly to re- commend the great, the awful, and the refpectable virtues, the virtues of felf-government and felf- command •, fortitude, magnanimity, independency upon fortune, the contempt of all outward accidents, of pain, poverty, exile, and death. It is in thefe
great
3$z 0/ Systems , Part VI.
great exertions that the nobleft propriety of conduct is difplayed. The foft, the amiable, the gentle vir- tues, all the virtues of indulgent humanity are, in comparifon, but little infifted upon, and feem, on the contrary, by the Stoics in particular, to have been often regarded as mere weaknefTes which it be- hoved a wife man not to harbour in his bread.
The benevolent fyftem, on the other hand, while it fofters and encourages all thofe milder virtues in the higheft degree, feems entirely to neglect the more awful and refpectable qualities of the mind. It even denies them the appellation of virtues. It calls them moral abilities, and treats them as qualities which do not delerve the fame fort of efteem and approbation, that is due to what is properly denominated virtue. All thofe principles of action which aim only at our own intereft, it treats, if that be pofiible, ftill worfe. So far from having any merit of their own, they di- minifh, it pretends, the merit of benevolence, when they co-operate with it : and prudence, it is afferted, when employed only in promoting private intereft, can never even be imagined a virtue.
That fyftem, again, which makes virtue confift in prudence only, while it gives the higheft encou- ragement to the habits of caution, vigilance, fobrieiy, and judicious moderation, feems to degrade equally both the amiable and refpedtable virtues, and to ftrip the former of all their beauty, and the latter of all their grandeur.
But notwithftanding thefe defects, the general ten- dency of each of thofe three fyftems is to encourage the beft and moft laudable habits of the human mind :
and
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 333
and it were well for fociety, if, either mankind in general, or even thofe few who pretend to live ac- cording to any philofophical rule, were to regulate their conduct by the precepts of any one of them. We may learn from each of them fomething that is both valuable and peculiar. If it was pofiible, by precept and exhortation, to infpire the mind with fortitude and magnanimity, the ancient fyftems of propriety would feem fufEcient to do this. Or if it was poflible, by the fame means, to foften it into humanity, and to awaken the affections of kindnefs and general love towards thofe we live with, fome of the pictures with which the benevolent fyftem pre- fents us, might feem capable of producing this ef- fect. We may learn from the fyftem of Epicurus, though undoubtedly the worft of all the three, how much the practice of both the amiable and refpecta- ble virtues is conducive to our own intereft, to our own eafe and fafety and quiet even in this life. As Epicurus placed happinefs in the attainment of eafe and fecurity, he exerted himfelf in a particular man- ner to (how that virtue was, not merely the befl and the fureft, but the only means of acquiring thofe in- valuable pofifeflions. The good effects of virtue, upon our inward tranquility and peace of mind, are what other philofophers have chiefly celebrated. Epi- curus, without neglecting this topic, has chiefly in- filled upon the influence of that amiable quality on our outward profperity and fafety. It was upon this account that his writings were fo much ftudied in the ancient world by men of all different philofophical parties. It is from him that Cicero, the great enemy of the Epicurean fyftem, borrows his mod agreeable proofs that virtue alone is fufficient to fecure happi- nefs. Seneca, though a Stoic, the feet mod oppo-
334 0/ S y s t e m s Part VL
fite to that of Epicurus, yet quotes this philofopher more frequently than any other.
There are, however, fome other fyftems which ieem to take away altogether the diftin&ion between vice and virtue, and of which the tendency is, upon that account, wholly pernicious: I mean the fyftems of the duke of Rochefoucault and Dr. Mandeville. Though the notions of both thefe authors are in al- mod every refpect erroneous, there are, however, fome appearances in human nature which, when viewed in a certain manner, feem at firft fight to fa- vour them. Thefe, firft flightly fketched out with the elegance and delicate precifion of the duke of Rochefoucault, and afterwards more fully repre- fented with the lively and humorous, though coarfe and ruftic eloquence of Dr. Mandeville, have thrown upon their doctrines an air of truth and probability which is very apt to impofe upon the unfkilful.
Dr. Mandeville, the mod methodical of thofe two authors, confiders whatever is done from a fenfe of propriety, from a regard to what is commendable and praife-worthy, as being done from a love of praife and commendation, or as he calls it from va- nity. Man, he obferves, is naturally much more interefted in his own happinefs than in that of others, and it is impoiliblethat in his heart he can ever really prefer their profperity to his own. Whenever he ap- pears to do fo, we may be aflured that he impofes upon us, and that he is then acting from the fame felfifti motives as at all other times. Among his other felfifti paflions, vanity is one of the ftrongeft, and he is always eafily flattered and greatly delighted with the applaufes of thofe about him. , When he
appears
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 335
appears to facrifice his own intereft to that of his companions, he knows that this conduct will be highly agreeable to their felf-love, and that they will not fail to exprefs their fatisfaction by bellowing up- on him the moil extravagant praifes. The pleafure which, he expects from this, over- balances, in his opinion, the intereft which he abandons in order to procure it. His conduct, therefore, upon this oc- cafion, is in reality juft as felfifh, and arifes from juft as mean a motive as upon any other. He is flatter- ed, however, and he flatters himfelf with the belief that it is entirely difmterefted •, fince, unlefs this was fuppofed, it would not feem to merit any commenda- tion either in his own eyes or in thole of others. All public fpirit, therefore, all preference of public to private intereft, is, according to him a mere cheat and impofition upon mankind -, and that human vir- tue which is fo much boafted of, and which is the occafion of fo much emulation among men, is the mere offspring of flattery begot upon pride.
Whether the mod generous and public fpirited actions may not, in fome fenfe, be regarded as pro- ceeding from felf-love, I fhall not at prefent exa- mine. The decifion of this queftion is not, I appre- hend, of any importance towards eftablifhing the reality of virtue, fince felf-love may frequently be a virtuous motive of action. I fhall only endeavour to (how that the defire of doing what is honourable and noble, of rendering ourfelves the proper objects of efteem and approbation, cannot with any propriety be called vanity. Even the love of well-grounded fame and reputation, the defire of acquiring efteem by what is really eftimable, does not deferve that name. The firft is the love of virtue, the nobleft
and
33$ Of Systems Part VI.
and the bed paflion of human nature. The fecond is the love of true glory, a paflion inferior no doubt to the former, but which in dignity appears to come immediately after it. He is guilty of vanity who de- fires praife for qualities which are either not praife- worthy in any degree, or not in that degree which he expects to be praifed for them ; who fees his cha- racter upon the frivolous ornaments of drefs and equipage, or the equally frivolous accompiifhments of ordinary behaviour. He is guilty of vanity who defires praife for what indeed very well deferves it, but what he perfectly knows does not belong to him. The empty coxcomb who gives himfelf airs of im- portance which he has no title to, the filly liar who aflumes the merit of adventures which never happen- ed, the foolifh plagiary who gives himfelf out for the author of what he has no pretenfions to, are properly accufed of this paflion. He too is faid to be guilty of vanity who is not contented with the filent fenti- ments of edeem and approbation, who feems to be fonder of their noify expreflions and acclamations than of the fentiments themfelves, who is never fatis- iied but when his own praifes are ringing in his ears, and whofolicits with the mod anxious importunity all external marks of refpect, is fond of titles, of compli- ments, of being vifited, of being attended, of being taken notice of in public places with the appearance of deference and attention. This frivolous paflion is al- together different from either of the two former, and is the paflion of the lowed, and the lead of mankind, as they are of the nobled and the greated.
But though thefe three paflions, the defire of ren- dering ourfelves tl^e proper objects of honour and edeem ; or of becQming what is honourable and
eftimablei
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 337
eftimable ; the defire of acquiring honour and efteem by really defer ving thofe fentirnents ; and the frivo- lous defire of praife at any rate, are widely different ; though the two former are always approved of, while the latter never fails to be defpifed ; there is, however, a certain remote affinity among them, which, exaggerated by the humorous and diverting eloquence of this lively author, has enabled him to impofe upon his readers. There is an affinity be- tween vanity and the love of true glory, as both thefe paffions aim at acquiring efteem and approbation. But they are different in this, that the one is a juft, reafonable, and equitable paffion, while the other is unjufl, abfurd, and ridiculous. The man who de- fires efteem for what is really eftimable, defires no- thing but what he is juftly entitled to, and what can- not be refufed him without fome fort of injury. He, on the contrary, who defires it upon any other terms, demands what he has no juft claim to. The firft is eafily fatisfied, is not apt to be jealous or fufpicious that we do not efteem him enough, and is feldom fo- licitous about receiving many external marks of our regard. The other, on the contrary, is never to be fatisfied, is full of jealoufy and fufpicion that we do not efteem him fo much as he defires, becaufe he has fome fecret confcioufnefs that he defires more than he deferves. The leaft neglect of ceremony, he confi- ders as a mortal affront, and as an expreffion of the moft determined contempt. He is reftlefs and im- patient, and perpetually afraid that we have loft all refpect for him, and is upon this account always anxious to obtain new expreflions of efteem, and cannot be kept in temper but by continual atten- dance and adulation,
Z There
338 O/Systems Part VL
There is an affinity too between the defire of be- coming what is honourable and eflimable, and the defire of honour and efleem, between the love of vir- tue and the love of true glory. They refemble one another not only in this refpect, that both aim at really being what is honourable and noble, but even in that refpect in which the love of true glory refem- bles what is properly called vanity, fome reference to the fentiments of others. The man of the greater! magnanimity, who defires virtue for its own fake, and is mod indifferent about what actually are the opinions of mankind with regard to him, is flill, however, delighted with the thoughts of what they ihould be, with the conicioufnefs that though he may neither be honoured nor applauded, he is flill the proper object of honour and applaufe, and that if mankind were cool and candid and confiftent with themfelves, and properly informed of the motives and circumftances of his conduct, they would not fail to honour and applaud him. Though he def- pifes the opinions which are actually entertained of him, he has the higheft value for thofe which ought to be entertained of him. That he might think himfelf worthy of thofe honourable fentiments, and, whatever was the idea which other men might conceive of his character, that when he fhould put himfelf in their fituation, and con- fider, not what was, but what ought to be their Opinion, he fhould always have the higheft idea of it himfelf, was the great and exalted motive of his conduct. As even in the love of virtue, therefore, there is flill fome reference, though not to what is, yet to what in reafon and propriety ought to be, the opinion of others, there is even in this refpect fome affinity between it, and the love of true glory. There is, however, at the fame time, a very great differ- ence
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 339
ence between them. The man who acts folely from a regard to what is right and fit to be done, from a regard to what is the proper object of efteem and approbation, though thefe fentiments mould never be beftowed upon him, acts from the mod fublime and godlike' motive which human nature is even capable of conceiving. The man, on the other hand, who while he defires to merit approbation is at the fame time anxious to obtain it, though he too is laudabk in the main, yet his motives have a greater mixture of human infirmity. He is in danger of being mor- tified by the ignorance and injultice of mankind, and his happineis is expofed to the envy of his rivals, and the folly of the public. The happinefs of the other, on the contrary, is altogether fecure and independent of fortune, and of the caprice of thofe he lives with. The contempt and hatred which may be thrown upon him by the ignorance of mankind, he confiders as not belonging to him, and is not at all mortified by it. Mankind defpife and hate him from a falfe notion of his character and conduct. If- they knew him bet- ter, they would efteem and love him. It is not him whom, properly fpeaking, they hate and defpife, but another perfon whom they miftake him to be. Our friend, whom we mould meet at a mafquerade in the garb of our enemy, would be more diverted than mortified, if under that difguife we mould vent our indignation againft him. Such are the fentiments of a man of real magnanimity, when expofed to unjufl cenfure. It feldom happens, however, that human nature arrives at this degree of firmnefs. Though none but the weakeft and mod worthlefs of man- kind are much delighted with falfe glory, yet, by a ftrange inconfiftency, falfe ignominy is often car pable of mortifying thofe who appear the moft refo- lute and determined.
Z 2 Df.
54° 0/ S y s t e m s % Part VI.
Dr. Mandeville is not fatisfied with reprefenting the frivolous motive of vanity, as the fource of all thofe actions which are commonly accounted virtu- ous. He endeavours to point out the imperfection of human virtue in many other refpects. In every cafe, he pretends, it falls fhort of that complete felf- denial which it pretends to, and, inftead of a con- quer!:, is commonly no more than a concealed indul- gence of our paffions. Wherever our referve with regard to pleafure falls fhortof the moft afcetic ab- flinence, he treats it as grofs luxury and fenfuality. Every thing, according to him, is luxury which ex- ceeds what is abfolutely necerTary for the fupport of human nature, fo that there is a vice even in the ufe of a clean fhirt, or of a convenient habitation. The indulgence of the inclination to fex? in the moft law- ful union, he confiders as the fame fenfuality with the moft hurtful gratification of that paflion, and de- rides that temperance and that chaftity which can be pradtifed at fo cheap a rate. The ingenious fophiftry of his reafoning, is here, as upon many other occa- fions, covered by the ambiguity of language. There are fome of our pafHons which have no other names except thofe which mark the difagreeable and offen- five degree. The fpeclator is more apt to take no- tice of them in this degree than in any other. When they fhock his own fentiments, when they give him fome fort of antipathy and uneafinefs, he is necefla- rily obliged to attend to them, and is from thence naturally led to give them a name. When they fall in with the natural ftateof his own mind, he is very- apt to overlook them altogether, and either gives them no name at all, or, if he gives them any, it is one which marks rather the fubjeclion and reftraint of the paflion than the degree which it ftill is allowed
to
Sed. II. 0/ Moral Philosophy. 34*
to fubfift in, after it is fo fubje&ed and reftrained. Thus the common names of the * love of pleafure, and of the love of fex, denote a vicious and offenfive degree of thofe paffions. The words temperance and chaftity, on the other hand, feem to mark rather the reftraint and fubjection which they are kept un- der, than the degree which they are dill allowed to fubfift in. When he can (how, therefore, that they dill fubfift in fome degree, he imagines, he has entirely demolilhed the reality of the virtues of tem- perance and chaftity, and fhown them to be mere impofnions upon the inattention and fimplicity of mankind. Thofe virtues, however, do not require an entire infenfibility to the objects of the pafiions which they mean to govern. They only aim at re- straining the violence of thofe paffions fo far as not to hurt the individual, and neither difturb nor offend the fociety.
It is the great fallacy of Dr. Mandeville's book f to reprefent every paflion as wholly vicious, which is fo in any degree and in any direction. It is thus that he treats every thing as vanity which has any reference, either to what are, or to what ought to be the fenti- ments of others : and it is by means of this fophi- ftry, that he eftablifhes his favourite conclufion, that private vices are public benefits. If the love of mag- nificence, a tafte for the elegant arts and improve- ments of human life, for whatever is agreeable in drefs, furniture, or equipage, for architecture, ftatu- ary, painting, and mufic, is to be regarded as luxury, fenfuality and oftentation, even in thofe whofe fitu- ation allows, without any inconveniency, the indul-
Z 3 gence
* Luxury and lull. f Fable of the Bees,
342 Of Systems Part VI,
gence of thole paflions, it is certain that luxury, fen- iuality, and oftentation are public benefits : fince, without the qualities upon which he thinks proper to beftow fuch opprobrious names, the arts of refine- ment could never find encouragement, and muft languifh for want of employment. Some popular afcetic doctrines which had been current before his time, and which placed virtue in the entire extir- pation and annihilation of all our paflions, were the real foundation of this licentious fyftem. It was eafy for Dr. Mandeville to prove, firft, that this entire conqueft never actually took place among men ; and Secondly, that, if it was to take place univerfally, it would be pernicious to fociety, by putting an end to all induflry and commerce, and in a manner to the whole bufinefs of human life. By the firft of thefe proportions he feemed to prove that there was no real virtue, and that what pretended to be fuch, was a mere cheat and impofition upon mankind ; and by the fecond, that private vices were public bene- fits, fince without them no fociety could profper or fiourifh.
Such is the fyftem of Dr. Mandeville, which once made fo much noife in the world, and which, though perhaps, it never gave occafion to more vice than what would have been without it, at lead taught that vice, which arofe from other caufes, to appear with more effrontery, and to avow the corruption of its motives with a profligate audacioufnefs which had never been heard of before.
But how deftructive foever this fyftem may appear, it could never have impofed upon fo great a number of perfons, nor h^ye occafioned fo general an alarm
among
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 343
among thofe who are the friends of better principles, had it not in fome refpeds bordered upon the truth. A fyftem of natural philofophy may appear very plaufible, and be for a long time very generally re- ceived in the world, and yet have no foundation in nature, nor any fort of refemblance to the truth. The vortices of Des Cartes were regarded by a very ingenious nation, for near a century toge- ther, as a mod fatisfactory account of the revoluti- ons of the heavenly bodies. Yet it has been demon- ftrated, to the conviction of all mankind, that thefe pretended caufes of thofe wonderful effects, not only do not actually exift, but are utterly impoflible, and if they did exift, could produce no fuch effects as are afcribed to them. But it is otherwife with fyftems of moral philofophy, and an author who pretends to account for the origin of our moral fentiments, can- not deceive us fo grofsly, nor depart fo very far from all refemblance to the truth. When a traveller gives an account of fome diftant country, he may impofe upon our credulity the moft groundlefs and abfurd fictions as the moft certain matters of fact. But when a perfon pretends to inform us of what paiTes in our neighbourhood, and of the affairs of the very parifh which we live in, though here too, if we are fo carelefs as not to examine things with our own eyes, he may deceive us in many refpects, yet the greater! falfehoods which he impofes upon us muft bear fome refemblance to the truth, and muft even have a con- fiderable mixture of truth in them. An author who treats of natural philofophy, and pretends to afiign the caufes of the great phenomena of the univerfe, pretends to give an account of the affairs of a very diftant country, concerning which he may tell us what he pleafes, and as long as his narration keeps within the bounds of feeming poffibility, he need not
Z 4 defpair
344 0/ Systems Part VI.
defpair of gaining our belief. But when he propofes ro explain the origin of our defires and affections, of our fentiments of approbation and difapprobation, he pretends to give an account, not only of the affairs of the very parifh that we live in, but of our own domeftic concerns. Though here too, like indolent matters who put their truft in a fteward who deceives them, we are very liable to be impofed upon, yet we are incapable of palling any account which does not preferve fome little regard to the truth. Some of the articles, at lead, muft be juft, and even thofe which are mod overcharged muft have had fome foundati- on, otherwife the fraud would be detected even by that carelefs infpection which we are difpofed to give. The author who mould aflign, as the caufe of any natural fentiment, fome principle which neither had any connexion with it, nor refembled any other prin- ciple which had fome fuch connexion, would appear abfurd and ridiculous to the mod injudicious and un- experienced reader.
SEC T.
Sett. III. of Moral Philosophy, 34.5
SECTION III.
Of the different fyftems which have been formed concerning the principle of approbation.
INTRODUCTION.
J\ F T E R the inquiry concerning the nature ot virtue, the next queftion of importance in Moral Philofophy, is concerning the principle of approba- tion, concerning the power or faculty of the mind which renders certain characters agreeable or difa- greeable to us, makes us prefer one tenour of con- duel to another, denominate the one right and the other wrong, and confider the one as the object of approbation, honour, and reward ; the other as that of blame, cenfure, and punifhment.
Three different accounts have been given of this principle of approbation. According to fome, we approve and difapprove both of our own actions and of thofe of others, from felf-love only, or from fome view of their tendency to our own happinefs or dis- advantage -, according to others, reafon, the fame fa- culty by which we diflinguifh between truth and falfehood, enables us to diflinguifh between what is fit and unfit both in actions and affections : accord- ing to others this diftinction is altogether the effect of immediate fentiment and feeling, and arifes from the "Satisfaction or difgufl with which the view of
certain
346 Of S y s t e m s Part VI.
certain actions or affections infpires us. Self-love, reafon, and fentiment, therefore, are the three dif- ferent fources which have been afligned for the prin- ciple of approbation.
Before I proceed to give an account of thofe dif- ferent fyftems, I muft obferve, that the determina- tion of this fecond queftion, though of the greateft importance in fpeculation, is of none in practice. The queftion concerning the nature of virtue necef- farily has fome influence upon our notions of right and wrong in many particular cafes. That concern- ing the principle of approbation can poffibly have no iuch effect. To examine from what contrivance or mechanifm within, thofe different notions or fenti- ments arife, is a mere matter of philofophical curio- fity.
CHAP. I.
Of thofe fyftems which deduce the principle of approba- tion from J elf love.
HOSE who account for the principle of ap- probation from felf-love, do not ail account for it in the fame manner, and there is a good deal of confu- fion and inaccuracy in all their different fyftems. According to Mr. Hobbes, and many of his follow- ers, * man is driven to take refuge in fociety, not by any natural love which he bears to his own kind, but becaufe without the afliftance of others he is in- capable of lubfifting with eafe or fafety. Society,
upon
* Puffendorff. Mandeville.
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. 347
upon this account, becomes neceflary to him, and whatever tends to its iupport and welfare, he confi- ders as having a remote tendency to his own interelt, and, on the contrary, whatever is likely to diiturb or deftroy it, he regards as in fome meafure hurtful or pernicious to himfelf. Virtue is the great fupport, and vice the great difturber of human fociety. The former, therefore, is agreeable, and the latter offen- iive to every man ; as from the one he forefees the profperity, and from the other the ruin and diforder of what is fo neceflary for the comfort and fecurity of his exiftence.
That the tendency of virtue to promote, and of vice to difturb the order of fociety, when we confider it coolly and philofophically, reflects a very great beauty upon the one, and a very great deformity upon the other, cannot, as I have obferved upon a former occafion, be called in queftion. Human fo~ ciety, when we contemplate it in a certain abftract and philofophical light, appears like a great, an im- menfe machine, whofe regular and harmonious move- ments produce a thoufand agreeable effects. As in any other beautiful and noble machine that was the production of human art, whatever tended to ren- der its movements more fmooth and eafy, would de- rive a beauty from this effect, and, on the contrary, whatever tended to obitruct them would difpleafe upon that account: fo virtue, which is, as it were, the fine polifh to the wheels of fociety, neceffarily pleafes -, while vice, like the vile ruft, which makes them jar and grate upon one another, is as neceffarily offenfive. This account, therefore, of the origin of approbation and difapprobation, fo far as it derives them from a regard to the order of fociety, runs into
that
^48 0/ Systems Part VL
that principle which gives beauty to utility, and which I have explained upon a former occafion •, and it is from thence that this fyftem derives all that ap- pearance of probability which it poffefles. When thofe authors defcribe the innumerable advantages of a cultivated and focial, above a favage and folitary life ; when they expatiate upon the necefilty of vir- tue and good order for the maintenance of the one, and demonftrate how infallibly the prevalence of vice and difobedience to the laws tend to bring back the other, the reader is charmed with the novelty and grandeur of thofe views which they open to him : he fees plainly a new beauty in virtue, and a new deformity in vice, which he had never taken notice of before, and is commonly fo delighted with the difcovery, that he feldom takes time to reflect, that this political view, having never occurred to him in his life before, cannot pofiibly be the ground of that approbation and disapprobation with which he has always been accuftomed to confider thofe different qualities.
When thofe authors, on the other hand, deduce from felf-love the intereft which we take in the wel- fare of fociety, and the efleem which upon that ac- count we beflow upon virtue, they do not mean, that when we in this age applaud the virtue of Cato, and deteft the villainy of Catiline, our ientiments are in- fluenced by the notion of any benefit we receive from the one, or of any detriment we fufFer from the other. It was not becaufe the profperity or fubver- fion of fociety, in thofe remote ages and nations, was apprehended to have any influence upon our happinefs or mifery in the prefent times •, that ac- cording to thofe pkjlofophers, we efteemed the vir- tuous,
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. 349
tuous, and blamed the diforderly character. They never imagined that our fentiments were influenced by any benefit or damage which we fuppofed actual- ly to redound to us, from either; but by that which might have redounded to us, had we lived in thofe dis- tant ages and countries; or by that which might (till redound to us, if in our own times'.we fhould meet with characters of the fame kind. The idea, in fhort, which thofe authors were groping about, but which they were never able to unfold diflinctly, was that indirect fympathy which we feel with the gratitude or refentment of thofe who received the benefit or fuf- fered the damage refulting from fuch oppofite charac- ters : and it was this which they were indiflinctly pointing at, when they faid, that it was not the thought of what we had gained or fuffered which prompted our applaufe or indignation, but the con- ception or imagination of what we might gain or fufFer if we were to act in fociety with fuch afib- ciates.
Sympathy, however, cannot, in any fenfe, be re- garded as a felfifh principle. When I fympathize with your forrow or your indignation, it may be pretended, indeed, that my emotion is founded in felf-love, becaufe it arifes from bringing your cafe home to myfelf, from putting myfelf in your fitua- tion, and thence conceiving what I fhould feel in the like circumftances. But though fympathy is very properly faid to arife from an imaginary change of fituations with the perfon principally concerned, yet this imaginary change is not fuppofed to happen to me in my own perfon and character, but in that of the perfon with whom I fympathize. When I con- dole with you for the lofs of your only fon, in order to enter into your grief, I do not confider what; I, a
perfon
35° ' Of Systems Part VI.
perfon of fuch a character and profefllon, mould fuffer, if I had a fori, and if that fon was unfortu- nately to die : but I confider what I lhould fuffer if I was really you, and I not only change circumftances with you, but I change perfons and characters. My grief, therefore, is entirely upon your account, and not in the leaft upon my own. It is not, therefore, in the leaft felfifh. How can that be regarded as a felfifh paffion, which does not arife even from the imagination of any thing that has befallen, or that relates to myfelf, in my own proper perfon and cha- racter, but which is entirely occupied about what relates to you ? A man may fympathize with a wo- man in child-bed •, though it is impoffible that he fhould conceive himfelf as fuffering her pains in his own proper perfon and character. That whole ac- count of human nature, however, which deduces all fentiments and affections from felflove, which has made fo much noife in the wor]d, but which, fo far as I know, has never yet been fully and diftinctly explained, feems to me to have arifen from fome confufed mifapprehenfion of the fyftem of fympathy.
CHAP. II.
Of thofe Jyflems which make reafon the principle of approbation.
A T is well known to have been the doctrine of Mr. Hobbes, that a ftate of nature, is a (late of war ; and that antecedent to the inftitution of civil go- vernment, there could be no fafe or peaceable foci- cty among men. To preferve fociety, therefore, ac- cording
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy.- 351
cording to him, was to fupport civil government, and to deftroy civil government was the fame thing as to put an end to fociety. But the exiftence of civil go- vernment depends upon the obedience that is paid to the fupreme magiftrate. The moment he lofes his authority, all government is at an end. As felf- prefervation, therefore, teaches men to applaud whatever tends to promote the welfare of fociety, and to blame whatever is likely to hurt it 5 fo the fame principle, if they would think and fpeak con- fidently, ought to teach them to applaud upon all ocafions obedience to the civil magiftrate, and to blame all difobedience and rebellion. The very ideas of laudable and blameable, ought to be the fame with thofe of obedience and difobedience. The laws of the civil magiftrate, therefore, ought to be regarded as the fole ultimate ftandards of what was juft and unjuft, of what was right and wrong.
It was the avowed intention of Mr. Hobbes, by propagating thefe notions, to fubject the confciences of men immediately to the civil, and not to the ec- clefiaftical powers, whofe turbulence and ambition, he had been taught, by the example of his own times, to regard as the principal fource of the dif- orders of fociety. His doctrine, upon this account, was peculiarly offenfive to Theologians, who accord- ingly did not fail to vent their indignation againft him with great afperity and bitternefs. It was like- wife offenfive to all found moralifts, as it fuppofed that there was no natural diftinction between right and wrong, that thefe were mutable and changeable, and depended upon the mere arbitrary will of the civil magiftrate. This account of things, therefore,
was
352 O/Systems Part VI.
was attacked from all quarters, and by all forts of weapons, by fober reafon as well as by furious de- clamation.
In order to confute fo odious a doctrine, it was neceffary to prove, that antecedent to all law or pofnive inftitution, the mind was naturally endowed with a faculty, by which it diftinguifhed in certain actions and affections, the qualities of right, laudable, and virtuous, and in others thofe of wrong, blame- able, and vicious.
Law, it was juftly obferved by Dr. Cudworth, * could not be the original fource of thofe diftinctions ; fince upon the fuppofition of fuch a law, it muft either be right to obey it, and wrong to difobey it, or indifferent whether we obeyed it, or difobeyed it. That law which it was indifferent whether we obeyed or difobeyed, could not, it was evident, be the fource of thofe diftinctions ; neither could that which it was right to obey and wrong to difobey, fince even this ftill fuppofed the antecedent notions or ideas of right and wrong, and that obedience to the law was con- formable to the idea of right, and difobedience to that of wrong.
Since the mind, therefore, had a notion of thofe diftinctions antecedent to all law, it feemed necefla- rily to follow, that it derived this notion from rea- fon, which pointed out the difference between right and wrong, m the fame manner in which it did that between truth and falfehood : and this conclufion, which though true in fome refpects, is rather hafty
in
* Immutable Morality, 1. i.
Scdt. III. c/ Moral Philosophy. 353
in others, was more eafily received at a time when the abftract fcience of human nature was but in its infancy, and before the diftinct offices and powers of the different faculties of the human mind had been carefully examined and diftinguifhed from one ano- ther. When this controverfy with Mr. Hobbes was carried on with thegreateft warmth and keennefs, no other faculty had been thought of from which any fuch ideas could poffibly be fuppofed to arife. It became at this time, therefore, the popular doctrine, that the eiTence of virtue and vice did not con (id in the conformity or difagreement of human actions with the law of a fuperior, but in their conformity or difagreement with reaibn, which was thus confidered as the original fource and principle of approbation and difapprobation.
That virtue confifts in conformity to reafon, is true in fome refpects, and this faculty may veryjuftly be confidered, as in fome fenfe, the fource and prin- ciple of approbation and difapprobation, and of all folid judgments concerning right and wrong. It is by reafon that we difcover thole general rules of juf- tice by which we ought to regulate our actions : and it is by the fame faculty that we form thofe more vague and indeterminate ideas of what is prudent, of what is decent, of what is generous or noble, which we carry conftantly about with us, and according to which we endeavour, as well as we can, to model the tenour of our conduct. The general maxims of morality are formed, like all other general maxims, from experience and induction. We obferve in a great variety of particular cafes what pleafes or dif- pleafes our moral faculties, what thefe approve or difapprove of, and, by induction from this experi-
A a ence,
354 Of Systems Part VL
ence, we eftablifh thofe general rules. But induction is always regarded as one of the operations of reafon. From reafon, therefore, we are very properly faid to derive all thofe general maxims and ideas. It is by thefe, however, that we regulate the greater part of our moral judgments, which would be extremely uncertain and precarious if they depended altogether upon what is liable to fo many variations as immedi- ate fentiment and feeling, which the different ftates of health and humour are capable of altering fo efTentially. As our moft folid judgments, therefore, with regard to right and wrong, are regulated by maxims and ideas derived from an induction of rea- fon, virtue may very properly be faid to confifi in a conformity to reafon, and fo far this faculty may be confidered as the fource and principle of approbation and difapprobation.
But though reafon is undoubtedly the fource of the general rules of morality, and of all the moral judgments which we form by means of them; it is altogether abfurd and unintelligible to fuppofe that the firft perceptions of right and wrong can be derived from reafon, even in thofe particular cafes upon the experience of which the general rules are formed. Thefe firft perceptions, as well all other experiments upon which any general rules are founded, cannot be the object of reafon, but of immediate fenfe and feeling. It is by finding in a vaft variety of inftances that one tenour of conduct conftantly pleafes in a certain manner, and that another as conftantly dif- pleafes the mind, that we form the general rules of morality. But reafon cannot render any particular object either agreeable or difagreeable to the mind for its own fake.^ Reafon may fhow that this object
is
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. $5$
k the means of obtaining fome other which is natu- rally either pleafing or difpleafing, and in this man- ner may render it either agreeable or difagreeable for the fake of fomething elfe. But nothing can be agreeable or difagreeable for its own fake, which is not rendered fuch by immediate fenfe and feeling. If virtue, therefore, in every particular inftance, neceffarily pleafes for its own fake, and if vice as certainly difpleafes the mind, it cannot bereafon, but immediate fenfe and feeling, which, in this manner, reconciles us to the one, and alienates us from the other.
Pleafure and pain are the great objects of de fire and averfion : but thefe are diftinguifhed not by reafon, but by immediate fenfe and feeling. If vir- tue, therefore, is defirable for its own fake, and if vice is, in the fame manner, the object of averfion, it cannot be reafon which originally diftinguifhes thofe different qualities, but immediate fenfe and feeling.
As reafon, however, in a certain fenfe, may juftly be confidered as the principle of approbation and dis- approbation, thefe fentiments were, through inat- tention, long regarded as originally flowing from the operations of this faculty. Dr. Hutchefon had the merit of being the firft who diftinguifhed with any degree of precifion in what refpect all moral diftincti- ons may be faid to arife from reafon, and in what refpedt they are founded upon immediate fenfe and feeling. In his illuftrations upon the moral fenfe he has explained this fo fully, and, in my opinion, fo unanfwerably, that, if any controverfy is ftill kept up about this fubject, I can impute it to nothing, A a 2 but
356 Of S y s t e m s Part VI.
but either to inattention to what that gentleman has written, or to a fuperftitious attachment to certain forms of expreflion, a weaknefs not very uncommon among the learned, efpecially in fubjects fo deeply interesting as the prefent, in which a man of virtue is often loth to abandon, even the propriety of a fingle phrafe which he has been accuftomed to.
CHAP. III.
Of thofe fyftems which make fentiment the principle of approbation.
JL HOSE fyftems which make fentiment the principle of approbation may be divided into two different claffes.
I. According to fome the principle of approbation is founded upon a fentiment of a peculiar nature, upon a particular power of perception exerted by the mind at the view of certain actions or affections y fome of which affecting this faculty in an agreeable and others in a difagreeable manner, the former are flampt with the characters of right, laudable, and virtuous •> the latter with thofe of wrong, blameable and vicious. This fentiment being of a peculiar nature diftinct from every other, and the effect of a particular power of perception, they give it a parti- cular name,' and call it a moral fenfe.
II. According to others, in order to account for the principle of approbation, there is no occafion for fuppofing an^ new power of perception which
had
Sect. III. c/Moral Philosophy. 357
had never been heard of before : Nature, they ima- gine, acts here, as in all other cafes, with the ftricteft ceconomy, and produces a multitude of effects from one and the fame caufe j and fympathy, a power which has always been taken notice of, and with which the mind is manifeftly endowed, is, they think, fuffici- ent to account for all the effects afcribed to this pecu- liar faculty.
I. Dr. Hutchefon * had been at great pains to prove that the principle of approbation was not founded on felf-love. He had demonftrated too that it could not arife from any operation of reafon. No- thing remained, he thought, but to fuppofe it a fa- culty of a peculiar kind, with which Nature had en- dowed the human mind, in order to produce this one particular and important effect. • When felf-love and reafon were both excluded, it did not occur to him that there was any other known faculty of the mind which could in any refpect anfwer this purpofe.
This new power of perception he called a moral fenie, and fuppofed it to be fomewhat analogous to the external fenfes. As the bodies around us, by affecting thefe in a certain manner, appear to poffefs the different qualities of found, tafte, odour, colour-, fo the various affections of the human mind, by touching this particular faculty in a certain manner, appear to poffefs the different qualities of amiable and odious, of virtuous and vicious, of right and wrong.
The various fenfes or powers of perception, f from
which the human mind derives all its fimple ideas,
A a 3 were,
* Inquiry concerning Virtue, f Treatife of the paftions.
358 Of S y s t'e m s Part VI.
were, according to this fyftem,of two different kinds, of which the one were called the direct or antecedent, the other, the reflex or confequent fenfes. The di- rect fenfes were thofe faculties from which the mind derived the perception of fuch fpecies of things as did not prefuppofe the antecedent perception of any other. Thus founds and colours were objects of the direct fenfes. To hear a found or to fee a colour docs not prefuppofe the antecedent perception of any other quality or object. The reflex or confequent fenfes, on the other hand, were thofe faculties from which the mind derived the perception of fuch fpecies of things as prefuppofed the antecedent perception of fome other. Thus harmony and beauty were objects of the reflex fenfes. In order to perceive the har- mony of a found, or the beauty of a colour, we muft firft perceive the found or the colour. The moral fenfe was confidered. as a faculty of this kind. That faculty, which Mr. Locke calls reflection, and from which he derived the fimple ideas of the different paffions and emotions of the human mind, was, ac- cording to Dr. Hutchefon, a direct internal fenfe. That faculty again by which we perceived the beauty or deformity, the virtue or vice of thofe different paffions and emotions, was a reflex, internal fenfe.
Dr. Hutchefon endeavoured (till further to fupport this doctrine, by (hewing that it was agreeable to the analogy of nature, and that the mind was endowed with a variety of other reflex fenfes exactly fimilar to the moral fenfe * fuch as a fenfe of beauty and de- formity in external objeas ; a public fenfe, by which we fympathize with the happinefs or mifery of our v fellow-
Sect. HI. of Moral Philosophy. 359
fellow-creatures -, a fenfe of fhame and honour, and a fenfe of ridicule.
But notwithftanding all the pains which this in- genious philofopher has taken to prove that the prin- ciple of approbation is founded in a peculiar power of perception, fomewhat analogous to the external fenfes, there are fome confequences, which he ac- knowledges to follow from this doctrine, that will, perhaps, be regarded by many as a fufficient confu- tation of it. The qualities, he allows, * which be- long to the objects of any fenfe, cannot, without the greateft abfurdity, be afcribed to the fenfe itfelf. Who ever thought of calling the fenfe of feeing black or white, the fenfe of hearing loud or low, or the fenfe of tailing fweet or bitter ? And, according to him, it is equally abfurd to call our moral faculties vir- tuous or vicious, morally good or evil. Thefe quali- ties belong to the objects of thofe faculties, not to the faculties themfelves. If any man, therefore, was fo abfurdly conftituted as to approve of cruelty and injuftice as the higheft virtues, and to dilapprove of equity and humanity as the mod pitiful vices, fuch a conftitution of mind might indeed be regarded as inconvenient both to the individual and to the foci- ety, and likewife as ftrange, furprifing, and unnatu- ral in itfelf-, but it could not, without the greateft abfurdity, be denominated vicious or morally evil.
Yet furely if we faw any man (homing with ad- miration and applaufe at a barbarous and unmerited execution, which fome infolent tyrant had ordered, A a 4 we
* Illuftrations upon the Moral Senfe. Se&. 1. p. 237, et feq. Third Edition.
36*0 0/ S y s t e m s Part VL
we mould not think we were guilty of any great ab- furdity in denominating this behaviour vicious and morally evil in the higheft degree, though it exprelTed nothing but depraved moral faculties, or an abfurd approbation of this horrid action, as of what was noble, magnanimous, and great. Our heart, I ima- gine, at the fight of fuch a fpectator, would forget for a while its fympathy with the fufferer, and feel nothing but horror and deteftation, at the thought of fo execrable a wretch. We mould abominate him even more than the tyrant who might be goaded on by the ftrong pamons of jealoufy, fear, and refent- ment, and upon that account be more excufable. But the fentiments of the fpectator would appear al- together without caufe or motive, and therefore mod perfectly and completely deteftable. There is no perverfion of fentiment or affection \vhich our heart would be more averfe to enter into, or which it would reject with greater hatred and indignation than one of this kind ; and fo far from regarding fuch a con- ititution of mind as being merely fomething ftrange or inconvenient, and not in any refpect vicious or morally evil, we mould rather confider it as the very lad and molt dreadful flage of moral depravity.
Correct moral fentiments, on the contrary, natu- rally appear in fome degree laudable and morally good. The man, whofe cenfure and applaul'e arc upon all occafions fuited with the greateft accuracy to the value or unworthinefs of the object, feems to deferve a degree even of moral approbation. We admire the delicate precifion of his moral fentiments : they lead our own judgments, and, upon account of their uncommon and furprifing juftnefs, they even excite our wonder and applaufe. Wre cannot indeed
be
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. 361
be always fure that the conduct of fuch a perfon would be in any refpect correfpondent to the preci- fion and accuracy of his judgments concerning the conduct of others. Virtue requires habit and refo- lution of mind, as well as delicacy of fentiment -, and unfortunately the former qualities are fometimes wanting, where the latter is in the greateft perfection. This difpofition of mind, however, though it may fometimes be attended with imperfections, is incom- patible with any thing that is grofsly criminal, and is the happiefl foundation upon which the fuperftruc- ture of perfect virtue can be built. There are many men who mean very well, and ierioufly purpofe to do what they think their duty, who notwithstanding are difagreeable on account of the coarfenefs of their moral fentiments.
It may be faid, perhaps, that though the princi- ple of approbation is not founded upon any power of perception that is in any refpect analogous to the external fenfes, it may dill be founded upon a pecu- liar fentiment which anfwers this one particular pur- pofe and no other. Approbation and difapproba- tion, it may be pretended, are certain feelings or emotions which arife in the mind upon the view of different characters and actions ; and as refentment might be called a fenfe of injuries, or gratitude a fenfe of benefits, fo thefe may very properly receive the name of a fenfe of right and wrong, or of a mo- ral fenfe.
But this account of things, though it may not be liable to the fame objections with the foregoing, is expofed to others which are equally unanfwerable.
Fird
362 Of S y s t e m s Part VL
Firft of all, whatever variations any particular emotion may undergo, it (till preferves the general features which diftinguifh it to be an emotion of fuch a kind, and thefe general features arc always more ftriking and remarkable than any variation which it may undergo in particular cafes. Thus an- ger is an emotion of a particular kind : and accord* ingly its general features are always more diftin- guifhable than all the variations it undergoes in par- ticular cafes. Anger againft a man, is, no doubt, fomewhat different from anger againft a woman, and that again from anger againft a child. In each of thofe three cafes, the general paffion of anger re- ceives a different modification from the particular character of its object, as may eafily be obferved by the attentive. But ftill the general features of the paffion predominate in all thefe cafes. To diftin- guifh thefe, requires no nice obfervation : a very de- licate attention, on the contrary, is necelTary to difco- ver their variations : every body takes notice of the former : fcarce any body obferves the latter. If ap- probation and difapprobation, therefore, were, like gratitude and refentment, emotions of a particular kind, diftinct from every other, we mould expect that in all the variations which either of them might undergo, it would ftill retain the general features which mark it to be an emotion of fuch a particular kind, clear, plain, and eafily diftinguifhable. But in fact it happens quite otherwife. If we attend to what we really feel when upon different occafions we either approve or difapprove, we fhall find that our emotion in one cafe is often totally different from that in another, and that no common features can poflibly be difcovered between them. Thus the ap- x probation
0
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. 36
probation with which we view a tender, delicate, and humane fentiment, is quite different from that with which we are ftruck by one that appears great, daring, and magnanimous. Our approbation of both may, upon different occafions, be perfect and entire ; but we are foftened by the one, and we are elevated by the other, and there is no fort of re- femblance between the emotions which they excite in us. But, according to that fyftem which I have been endeavouring to eftablifh, this muft neceffarily be the cafe. As the emotions of the perfon whom we approve of, are, in thofe two cafes, quite oppo- fite to one another, and as our approbation ariies from fympathy with thofe oppofite emotions, what we feel upon the one occafion, can have no fort of refemblance to what we feel upon the other. But this could not happen if approbation confided in a peculiar emotion which had nothing in common with the fentiments we approved of, but which arofe at the view of thofe fentiments, like any other paffion at the view of its proper object. The fame thing holds true with regard to difapprobation. Our horror for cruelty has no fort of refemblance to our contempt for mean-fpiritednefs. It is quite a dif- ferent fpecies of difcord which we feel at the view of thofe two different vices, between our minds and thofe of the perfon whofe fentiments and be- haviour we confider.
Secondly, I have already obferved, that not only the different paffions or affections of the human mind which are approved or difapproved of appear mo- rally good or evil, but that proper and improper ap- probation appear, to our natural fentiments, to be ftarnpt with the fame characters. I would afk,
therefore,
364 O/Systems Part VI.
therefore, how it is, that, according to this fyftem, we approve or difapprove of proper or improper approbation. To this queftion, there is, I imagine, but one reafonable anfwer, which can poflibly be given. It mult be faid, that when the approbation with which our neighbour regards the conduct of a third perfon coincides with our own, we approve of his approbation, and confider it as, in fomemeafure, morally good ; and that on the contrary, when it does not coincide with our own fentiments, we dif- approve of it, and confider it as, in fome meafure, morally evil. It mud be allowed, therefore, that, at leaft in this one cafe, the coincidence or oppofition of fentiments, between the obferver and the perfon obferved, conftitutes moral approbation or difappro- bation. And if it does fo in this one cafe, I would afk, why not in every other? to what purpofe ima- gine a new power of perception in order to account for thofe fentiments ?
Againft every account of the principle of appro- bation, which makes it depend upon a peculiar fen- timent, diftincl from every other, I would object ; that it is ftrange that this fentimenr, which Provi- dence undoubtedly intended to be the governing principle of human nature, fhould hitherto have been fo little taken notice of, as not to have got a name in any language. The word moral fenfe is of very late formation, and cannot yet be confidered as making part of the Englifh tongue. The word ap- probation has but within thefe few years been ap- propriated to denote peculiarly any. thing of this kind. In propriety of language we approve of whatever is entirely to our fatisfa&ion, of the form of a building, of rhe contrivance of a machine, of
the
Se£t. III. of Moral Philosophy. 365
the flavour of a didi of meat. The word confcience does not immediately denote any moral faculty by which we approve or difapprove. Confcience fup- pofes, indeed, the exiftence of fome fuch faculty, and properly fignifies our confcioufnefs of having acted agreeably or contrary to its directions. When love, hatred, joy, lbrrow, gratitude, refentment, with fo many other pafiions which are all fuppofed to be the fubjects of this principle, have made themfelves confiderable enough to get titles to know them by, is it not furprifing that the fovereign of them ail mould hitherto have been fo little heeded, that, a few philofophers excepted, no body has yet thought it worth while to bellow a name upon it ?
"When we approve of any character or action, the fentiments which we feel, are, according to the foregoing fyftem, derived from four fources, which are in fome refpects different from one another. Firft, we fympathize with the motives of the agent ; fecondly, we enter into the gratitude of thofe who receive the benefit of his actions ; thirdly, we ob- ferve that his conduct has been agreeable to the ge- neral rules by which thofe two fympathies generally act ; and, laft of all, when we confider fuch ac- tions as making part of a fyftem of behaviour which tends to promote the happinefs either of the indivi- dual or of the fociety, they appear to derive a beauty from this utility, not unlike that which we afcribe to any well contrived machine. After deducting, in any one particular cafe, all that muft be acknow- ledged to proceed from fome one or other of thefe four principles, I fhould be glad to know what remains, and I (hall freely allow this overplus to be afcribed to a moral fenfe, or to any other peculiar faculty,
provided
$66 Of S y s t e m s Part VI.
provided any body will afcertain precifely what this overplus is. It might be expected, perhaps, that if there was any fuch peculiar principle, foch as this moral fenfe is luppofed to be, we mould feel it, in fome particular cafes, feparated and detached from every other, as we often feel joy, forrow, hope, and fear, pure and unmixed with any other emotion. This however, I imagine, cannot even be pretended. I have never heard any inftance alleged in which this principle could be faid to exert itfelf alone and unmixed with fympathy or antipathy, with gratitude or refentment, with the perception of the agreement or difagreement of any action to an eflablifhed rule, or lad of all with that general tafte for beauty and order which is excited by inanimated as well as by animated objects.
II. There is another fyflem which attempts to ac- count for the origin of our moral fentiments from fympathy diftinct from that which I have been en- deavouring to eftablifh. It is that which places vir- tue in utility, and accounts for the pleafure with which the fpectator furveys the utility of any quality from fympathy with the happinefs of thofe who are affected by it. This fympathy is different both from that by which we enter into the motives of the agent, and from that by which we go along with the grati- tude of the perfons who are benefited by his actions. It is the fame principle with that by which we ap- prove of a well contrived machine. But no machine can be the object of either of thofe two laft mentioned fympathies. I have already, in the fourth part of this difcourfe, given fome account of this fyftem.
SECT-
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 367
SECTION IV.
Of the manner in which different authors have treated of the practical rules of morality.
X T was obferved in the third part of this difcourfe, that the rules of juftice are the only rules of morality which are precife and accurate ; that thofe of all the other virtues are loofe, vague, and indeterminate; that the firft may be compared to the rules of gram- mar \ the others to thofe which critics lay down for the attainment of what is fublime and elegant in com- pofition, and which prefent us rather with a general idea of the perfection we ought to aim at, than af- ford us any certain and infallible directions for ac- quiring it.
As the different rules of morality admit fuch dif- ferent degrees of accuracy, thofe authors who have endeavoured to collect and digeft them into fyilems have done it in two different manners ; and one fet has followed thro' the whole that loofe method to which they were naturally directed by the confidera- tion of one fpecies of virtues *, while another has as univerfally endeavoured to introduce into their pre- cepts that fort of accuracy of which only fome of them are fufceptible. The firft have wrote like cri- tics, the fecond like grammarians.
I. The
36S Of S y s t e m s Part VL
I. The firft, among whom we may count all the ancient moralifts, have contented themfelves with defcribing in a general manner the different vices and virtues, and with pointing out the deformity and mifery of the one difpofuion as well as the pro- priety and happinefs of the other, but have not af- fected to lay down many precife rules that are to hold good unexceptionably in all particular cafes. They have only endeavoured to afcertain, as far as language is capable of afcertaining, firft, wherein confifts the fentiment of the heart, upon which each particular virtue is founded, what fort of in- ternal feeling or emotion it is which conftitutes the effence of friendfhip, of humanity, of generality, of juftice, of magnanimity, and of all the other virtues, as well as of the vices which are oppofed tn them : and, fecondly, What is the general way of acting, the ordinary tone and tenour of conduct to which each of thofe fentiments would direct us, or how it is that a friendly, a generous, a brave, a juft, and a humane man, would, upon ordinary occafions, chufe to act.
To characterize the fentiment of the heart, upon which each particular virtue is founded, though it requires both a delicate and accurate pencil, is a tafk, however, which may be executed with fome degree of exactnefs. It is impoflible, indeed, to exprefs all the variations which each fentiment either does or ought to undergo, according to every poffible varia- tion of circumftances. They are endlefs, and lan- guage wants names to mark them by. The fenti- ment of friendfhip, for example, which we feel for an old man is different from that which we feel for
a young :
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 369 a young : that which we entertain for an auftere man different from that which we feel for one of fofter and gentler manners : and that again from what we feel for one of gay vivacity and fpirit. The friendfhip which we conceive for 'a man is different from that with which a woman affects us, even where there is no mixture of any groffer paffion. What author could enumerate and afcertain thefe and all the other infinite varieties which this fenti- ment is capable of undergoing ? But ftill the general fentiment of friendfhip and familiar attachment which is common to them all, may be afcertained with a fufficient degree of accuracy. The picture which is drawn of it, though it will always be in many refpects incomplete, may, however, have fuch a refemblance as to make us know the original when we meet with it, and even diftinguifh it from other fentiments to which it has a considerable refemblance, fuch as good- will, refpect, efteem, admiration.
To defcribe, in a general manner, what is the or- dinary way of acting to which each virtue would prompt us, is ftill more eafy. It is, indeed, fcarce poffible to defcribe the internal fentiment or emotion upon which it is founded, without doing fomething of this kind. It is impoflible by language to ex- prefs, if I may fay fo, the invifible features of all the different modifications of pafiian as they fhow themfelves within. There is no other way of mark- ing and diftinguilhing them from one another, but by defcribing the effects which they produce with- out, the aletrations which they occafion in the countenance, in the air and external behaviour, the refolutions they fuggeft, the actions they prompt to. It is thus that Cicero, in the firft book of his Of- B b flees.
3jo * 0/ Systems Part VI.
fices, endeavours to direct us to the practice of the four cardinal virtues, and that Ariflotle in the prac- tical parts of his Ethics, points out to us the diffe- rent habits by which he would have us regulate our behaviour, fuch as liberality, magnificence, magna- nimity, and even jocularity and good humour, qua- lities, which that indulgent philolbpher has thought worthy of a place in the catalogue of the virtues, though the lightnefs of that approbation which we naturally beftow upon them, mould not feem to en- title them to fo venerable a name.
Such works prefent us with agreeable and lively pictures of manners. By the vivacity of their de- fcriptions they inflame our natural love of virtue, and increafe our abhorrence of vice : by the juft- nefs as well as delicacy of their obfervations they may often help both to correct and to afcertain our natural fentiments with regard to the propriety of conduct, and fuggefling many nice and delicate at- tentions, form us to a more exact juftnefs of be- haviour, than what, without fuch initruction, we fhould have been apt to think of. In treating of the rules of morality, in this manner, confifts the fcience which is properly called Ethics, a fcience, which though like criticifm, it does not admit of the mod: accurate precifion, is, however,both highly ufefui and agreeable. It is of all others the moll fufcepti- ble of the embellifliments of eloquence, and by means of them of bellowing, if that be poflible, a new im- portance upon the fmalleft rules of duty. Its pre- cepts, when thus drefled and adorned, are capable of producing upon the flexibility of youth, the noblefl and moft lafling impreffions, and as they fall in with the natural magnanimity of that gene- rous
Sect. IV. o/Moral Philosophy, ^i
rous age, they are able to infpire, for a time atleaft,* the moft heroic resolutions, and thus tend both to eftablifh and confirm the beft and moft ufeful habits of which the mind of man is fufceptible. What- ever precept and exhortation can do to animate us to the practice of virtue, is done by this fcience de- livered in this manner.
IL Thefecond fet of moralifts, among whom we may count all the cafuifts of the middle and latter ages of the chriftian church, as well as ail thofe who in this and in the preceding century have treated of what is called natural jurifprudence, do not content themfeives with characterizing in this general man- ner that tenour of conduct which they would re- commend to us, but endeavour to lay down exact and precife rules for the direction of every circum- ftance of our behaviour. As juftice is the only virtue with regard to which iuch exact rules can properly be given -9 it is this virtue, that has chiefly fallen under the confideration of thofe two different fets of writers. They treat of it, however, in a very dif- ferent, manner.
Thofe who write upon the principles of jurifpru- dence, confider only what the perfon to whom the obligation is due, ought to think himfelf entitled to exact by force ; what every impartial fpectator would approve of him for exacting, or what a judge or arbiter, to whom he had fubmitted his cafe, and who had undertaken to do him juftice, ought to oblige the other perfon to fuffer or to perform. The ca- fuifts, on the other hand, do not fo much examine what it is, that might properly be exacted by force, as what it is, that the perfon who owes the obligation
B b 2 ought
•
372 Of Systems Part VL
ought to think himfelf bound to perform from the mod facred and fcrupulous regard to the general rules of juftice, and from the mod confcientious dread, either of wronging his neighbour, or of vio- lating the integrity of his own character. It is the end of jurifprudence to prefcribe rules for the deci- fions of judges and arbiters. It is the end of ca- fuiftry to prefcribe rules for the conduct of a good man. By obferving all the rules of jurifprudence, fuppofing them ever fo perfect, we mould deferve nothing but to be free from external punifhment. By obferving thofe of cafuiftry, fuppofing them fuch as they ought to be, we mould be entitled to confi- derable praife by the exact and fcrupulous delicacy of our behaviour.
It may frequently happen that a good man ought to think himfelf bound, from a facred and confcien- tious regard to the general rules of juftice to perform many things which it would be the higheft injuftice to extort from him, or for any judge or arbiter to impofe on him by force. To give a trite example ; a highwayman, by the fear of death, obliges a tra- veller to promife him a certain fum of money. Whether fuch a promife, extorted in this manner by unjuft force, ought to be regarded as obligatory, is a queftion that has been very much debated.
If we confider it merely as a queftion of jurifpru- dence, the decifion can admit of no doubt. It would be abfurd to fuppofe that the highwayman can be entitled to ufe force to conftrain the other to perform. To extort the promife was a crime which deferved the higheft punifhment, and to extort the performance would only be adding a new crime to
the
Sect. IV. c/Moral Philosophy. 373
the former. He can complain of no injury who has been only deceived by the perfon by whom he might juftly have been killed. To fuppofe that a judge ought to enforce the obligation of fuch promifes, or that the magiftrate ought to aliow them to fuflain an action at law, would be the moil ridiculous of all abfurdities. If we confider this queftion, therefore, as a queftion of jurifprudence, we can be at no lofs about the decifion.
But if we confider it as a queftion of cafuiftry, it will not be fo eafily determined. Whether a good man, from a confcientious regard to that mod facred rule of juftice, which commands the obfervance of all ferious promifes, would not think himfelf bound. to perform, is at lead much more doubtful. That no regard is due to the difappointment of the wretch who brings him into this fituation, that no injury is done to the robber, and confequently that nothing can be extorted by force, will admit of no fort of difpute. But whether fome regard is not, in this cafe, due to his own dignity and honour, to the in- violable facrednefs of that part of his character which makes him reverence the law of truth, and abhor every thing that approaches to treachery and falfehood, may, perhaps, more reafonably be made a queftion. The cafuifts accordingly are greatly di- vided about it. One party, with whom we may count Cicero among the ancients, among the mo- derns, Puffendorf, Barbeyrac his commentator, and above all the late Dr. Hutchefon, one who in mod cafes was by no means a loofe cafuift, determine, without any hefitation, that no fort of regard is due to any fuch promife, and that to think otherwife is B b p. mere
374- Of Systems Part VI.
mere weaknefs and fiiperftition. Another party, among whom we may reckon * fome of the ancient fathers of the church, as well as fome verv eminent modern cafuifts, have been of another opinion, and have judged all fuch promifes obligatory.
If we confider the matter according to the com- mon fentiments of mankind, we Ihall find that fome regard would be thought due even to a promife of this kind ; but that it is impofiible to determine how much, by any general rule that will apply to all cafes without exception. The man who was quite frank and eafy rn making promifes of this kind, and who violated them with as little ceremony, we mould not choofe for our friend and companion. A gentleman who mould promife a highwayman five pounds and not perform, would incur fome blame. If the fum promifed, however, was very great, it night be more doubtful, what was proper to be dome. If it was fuch, for example, that the payment of it would entirely ruin the family of the promifer, if it was fo great as to be fufficient for promoting the moll ufeful purpofes, it would appear in fome meafure criminal, at leaft extremely improper, to throw it, for the fake of a punctilio, into fuch worth- lefs hands. The man who mould beggar him- felf, or who mould throw away an hundred thoufand pounds, though he could afford that vail fum, for the fake of obferving fuch a parole with a thief, would appear to the common fenfe of mankind, abfurd and extravagant in the higheft de- gree. Such profufion would feem inconfiftent with his duty, with what he owed both to himfelf and
others^
* St>Auguftine, la Placctte.
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 37$
others, and what, therefore, regard, to a promife ex- torted in this manner, could by no means authorize. To fix, however, by any precife rule, what degree of regard ought to be paid to it, or what might be the greateft fum which could be due from it, is evi- dently impofiible. This would vary according to the characters of the perfons, according to their cir- cumftances, according to the folemnity of the promife, and even according to the incidents of the rencoun^ ter : and if the promifer had been treated with a great deal of that fort of gallantry, which is fometimes to be met with in perfons of the moll abandoned cha- racters, more would feem due than upon other occa- fions. It may be faid in general, that exact propriety requires the obfervance of all fuch promifes, when- ever it is not inconfiftent with fome other duties that are more facred •, fuch as regard to the public in- terest, to thofe whom gratitude, whom natural affec- tion, or whom the laws of proper beneficence fhould prompt us to provide for. But, as was formerly taken notice of, we have no precife rules to determine what external actions are due from a regard to fuch motives, nor, confequently, when it is that thofe virtues are inconfiftent with the obfervance of fuch promifes.
It is to be obferved, however, that whenever fuch promifes are violated, though for the mod necefiary reafons, it is always with fome degree of difhonour to the perfon who made them. After they are made, we may be convinced of the impropriety of obferv- ing them. But ftill there is fome fault in having made them. It is at leaft a departure from the higheft and nobleft maxims of magnanimity and ho- B b 4 nour.
$]6 Of Systems Part VL
nour. A brave man ought to die, rather than make a promiie which he can neither keep without folly, nor violate without ignominy. For fome degree of ignominy always attends a fituation of this kind. Treachery and falfehood are vices fo dangerous, fo dreadful, and, at the fame time, fuch as may foeafily, and, upon many occafions, fo fafely be indulged, that we are more jealous of them than of almoft any other. Our imagination therefore attaches the idea of fhame to all violations of faith, in every circum- ftance and in every fituation. They refemble, in this refpect, the violations of chaftity in the fair fex, a virtue of which, for the like reafons, we are excef- fively jealous -, and our fentiments are not more de- licate with regard to the one, than with regard to the other. Breach of chaftity difhonours irretrievably. No circumftances, no folicitation can excufe it ; no forrow, no repentance atone for it. We are fo nice in this refpect that even a rape difhonours, and the innocence of the mind cannot, in our imagination, warn out the pollution of the body. It is the fame cafe with the violation of faith, when it has been fo- lemnly pledged, even to the mod worthlefs of man- kind. Fidelity is fo neceffary a virtue, that we ap- prehend it in general to be due even to thofe to whom nothing elfe is due, and whom we think it lawful to kill and deftroy. It is to no purpofe that the perfon who has been guilty of the breach of it, urges that he promifed in order to fave his life, and that he broke his promife becaufe it was inconfiftent with fome other refpe&able duty to keep it. Thefe circum- ftances may alleviate, but cannot entirely wipe out hU difhonour. He appears to have been guilty of; an action with which, in the imaginations of men, fome degree of fhame is infeparably connected. He
has
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 377
has broke a promife which he had folemnly averred he would maintain •, and his character, if not irre- trievably ftained and polluted, has at lead a ridicule affixed to it, which it will be very difficult entirely to efface •, and no man, I imagine, who had gone through an adventure of this kind, would be fond of telling the (lory.
This inftance may ferve to (how wherein confifts the difference between cafuiftry and jurifprudence, even when both of them confider the obligations of the general rules of juftice.
But though this difference be real and efTential, though thofe two fciences propofe quite different ends, the famenefs of the Subject has made fuch a fimilarity between them, that the greater part of au- thors whofe profeflfed defign was to treat of jurif- prudence, have determined the different queftions they examine, fometimes according to the principles of that fcience, and fometimes according to thofe of cafuiftry, without diftinguilhing, and, perhaps, with- out being themfelves aware when they did the one, and when the other.
The doctrine of the cafuifts, however, is by no means confined to the confideration of what a con- scientious regard to the general rules of juftice, would demand of us. It embraces many other parts of Chriftian and moral duty. What feems principally to have given occafion to the cultivation of this fpecies of fcience was the cuftom of auricular con- feffion, introduced by the Roman Catholic fuperfti- tion^ in times of barbarifm and ignorance. By that
inftitution,
37$ Of Systems Part VI.
inftitution, the mod fecret actions, and even the thoughts of every perfon, which could be fufpected of receding in the imalleft degree from the rules of Chriftian purity, were to be revealed to the confefibr. The confefibr informed his penitents whether, and in what refpect they had violated their duty, and what penance it behoved them to undergo, before he could abfolve them in the name of the offended Deity.
The con fcioufnefs, or even the fufpicion of having done wrong, is a load upon every mind, and is ac- companied with anxiety and terrour in all thofe who are not hardened by long habits of iniquity. Men, in this, as in all other diftrefifes, are naturally eager to difburthen themfelves of the oppreflion which they feel upon their thoughts, by unbofoming the agony of their mind to fome perfon whofe fecrecy and dif- cretion they can confide in. The fiiame, which they fuffer from this acknowledgment, is fully compen- lated by that alleviation of their uneafinefs which the fympathy of their confident feldom fails to occa- iion. It relieves them to find that they are not alto- gether unworthy of regard, and that however their paft conduct may be cenfured, their prefent difpo- iition is at leaft approved of, and is perhaps fufficient to compenfate the other, at leaft to maintain them in fome degree of efteem with their friend. A nume- rous and artful clergy had, in thofe times of fuper- itiiion, infwuated themfelves into the confidence of almoft every, private family. They pofiefifed all the little learning which the times could afford, and their manners, though in many refpects rude and difor- derly, were polifhed and regular compared with thofe of the age they livej in. They were regarded, there- fore,
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 379
fore, not only as the great directors of all religious, but of all moral duties. Their familiarity gave re- putation to whoever was fo happy as to poffefs it, and every mark of their difapprobation (lamped the deeped ignominy upon all who had the misfortune to fall under it. Being confidered as the great judges of right and wrong, they were naturally confuked about all fcruples that occurred, and it was reputable for any perfon to have it known that he made thoie holy men the confidents of all fuch fecrets, and took no important or delicate ftep in his conduct without their advice and approbation. It was not difficult for the clergy, therefore, to get it eftablifhed as a ge- neral rule, that they mould be entrufted with what it had already become falhionable to entruft them, and with what they generally would have been en- trufted though no fuch rule had been eftablifhed. To qualify themfelves for confefibrs became thus a neceflary part of the ftudy of churchmen and divines, and they were thence led to collect what are called cafes of conlcience, nice and delicate fituations, in which it is hard to determine whereabouts the propri- ety of conduct may lie. Such works, they ima- gined, might be of ufe both to the directors of con- ferences and to thole who were to be directed ; and hence the origin of books of cafuiftry.
The moral duties which fell under the confidera- tion of the cafuifts were chiefly thofe which can, in ibme meafure at leaft, be circumfcribed within gene- ral rules, and of which the violation is naturally at- tended with fome degree of remorfe and fome dread of fuffering punifhment. The defign of that inftitu- tion which gave occafion to their works, was to ap- peafe thoje terrours of confeience which attend upon
the
380 O/Systems Part VI,
the infringement of fuch duties. But it is not every virtue of which the defect is accompanied with any very fevere compunctions of this kind, and no man applies to his confelTor .for absolution, becaufe he did not perform the mod generous, the moft friendly, or the moft magnanimous action which, in his cir- cumftances, it was pofiible to perform. In failures of this kind, the rule that is violated is commonly not very determinate, and is generally of fuch a na- ture too, that though the obfervance of it might en- title to honour and reward, the violation feems to ex- pole to no pofitive blame, cenfure, or punifhment. The exercife of fuch virtues the cafuifts ieem to have regarded as a fort of works of fupererogation, which could not be very ftrictly enacted, and which it was therefore unnecefiary for them to treat of.
The breaches of moral duty, therefore, which came before the tribunal of the confeflbr, and upon that account fell under the cognizance of the cafuifts, were chiefly of three different kinds.
Firft and principally, breaches of the rules of juftice. The rules here are all exprefs and pofitive, and the violation of them is naturally attended with the confcioufnefs of deferving, and the dread of fuffering punifhment both from God and man.
Secondly, breaches of the rules of chaftity. Thefe in all groffer inftances are real breaches of the rules of juftice, and no perfon can be guilty of them with- out doing the moft unpardonable injury to fome other. In fmaller inftances, when they amount only , to a violation of thofe exact decorums which ought
to
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 381
to be obferved in the converfation of the two fexes, they cannot indeed juftly be confidered as violations of the rules of jultice. They are generally, how- ever, violations of a pretty plain rule, and, at lead in one of the fexes, tend to bring ignominy up- on the perfon who has been guilty of them, and con- iequently to be attended in the fcrupulous with fome degree of fhame and contrition of mind.
Thirdly, breaches of the rules of veracity. The violation of truth, it is to be obferved, is not always a breach of ju dice, though it is fo upon many occa- fions, and confequently cannot always expofe to any external punifhment. The vice of common lying, though a mod miferable meannefs, may frequently do hurt to no perfon, and in this cafe no claim of vengeance or fatisfa&ion can be due either to the perfons impofed upon, or to others. But though the violation of truth is not always a breach of juf- tice, it is always a breach of a very plain rule, and what naturally tends to cover with fhame the perfon whohas been guilty of it. The great pleafure of converfation, and indeed of fociety, arifes from a certain correfpondence of fentiments and opinions, from a certain harmony of minds, which like fo many mufical inflruments coincide and keep time with one another. But this mod delightful harmony cannot be obtained unlefs there is a free communica- tion of fentiments and opinions. We all defire, upon this account, to feel how each other is affected, to penetrate into each other's bofoms, and to obferve the fentiments and affections which really fubfift there. The man who indulges us in this natural paf- fion, who invites us into his heart, who, as it were, fets open the gates of his bread to us, feems to exer-
cife
382 O/Systems Part VI.
cife a fpecies of hofpitality more delightful than any other. No man, who is in ordinary good temper, can fail of pleafing, if he has the courage to utter his real Ientiments as he feels them, and becaufe he feels them. It is this unreferved fincerity which ren- ders even the prattle of a child agreeable. How weak and imperfect foever the views of the open- hearted, we take pleaiure to enter into them, and en- deavour, as much as we can, to bring down our own underftanding to the level of their capacities, and to regard every iubject in the particular light in which they appear to have conftdered it. This pafTion to difcover the real Ientiments of others is naturally fo ftrong, that it often degenerates into a troublelbme and impertinent curiofity to pry into thole fecrets of our neighbours which they have very juftifiable rea- fons for concealing, and, upon many occafions, it requires prudence and a ftrong fenie of propriety ta govern this, as well as all the other paflions of hu- man nature, and to reduce it to that pitch which any impartial fpectator can approve of. To difappoint this curiofity, however, when it is kept within pro- per bounds, and aims at nothing which there can be any juft reafon for concealing, is equally difagreeable in its turn. The man who eludes our mod innocent queftions, who gives no fatisfaction to our moft in- offenfive inquiries, who plainly wraps himfelf up in impenetrable obfcurity, feems, as it were, to build a wall about his bread. We run forward to get within it, with all the eagernefs of harmlefs curiofity, and feel ourfelves all at once pufhed back with the rudeft and moft offenfive violence. If to conceal is fo dif- agreeable, to attempt to deceive us is (till more dif- gufting, even though we could pofiibly fuffer no- thing by the fuccefs of the fraud. If we fee that our
companion
Se6t. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 383
companion wants to impofe upon us, if the fenti- ments and opinions which he utters appear evidently not to be his own, let them be ever fo fine, we can derive no fort of entertainment from them \ and if fomething of human nature did not now and then tranfpire through all the covers which falfehood and affectation are capable of wrapping around it, a pup- pet of wood would be altogether as pleafant a com- panion as a perfon who never fpoke as he was affected. No man ever deceives, with regard to the moft infig- nificant matters, who is not confcious of doing fome- thing like an injury to thofe he converfes with ; and who does not inwardly blufh and fhrink back with fhame and confufion even at the fecret thought of a detection. Breach of veracity, therefore, being al- ways attended with lbme degree of remorfe and felf- condemnation, naturally fell under the cognizance of the cafuifts.
The chief fubjects of the works of the cafuifts, therefore, were the confcientious regard that is due to the rules of juftice ; how far we ought to refpecc the life and property of our neighbour; the duty of reflitution ; the laws of chaftity and modefty, and wherein coniifted what, in their language, are called the fins of concupifcence : the rules of veracity, and the obligation of oaths, promifes, and contracts of all kinds.
It may be faid in general of the works of the ca- fuifts that they attempted, to no purpofe, to direct by precife rules what belongs to feeling and fentiment only to judge of. How is it poflible to afcertain by rules the exact point at which, in every cafe, a deli- cate fenfe of juftice begins to run into a frivolous and
weak
384 Of Systems Part VI.
weak fcrupulofity of confcience ? When it is that fe- crecy and referve begin to grow into diflimulation ? How far an agreeable irony may be carried, and at what precife point it begins to degenerate into a de- teftable lie ? What is the higheft pitch of freedom and eafe of behaviour which can be regarded as graceful and becoming, and when it is that it firft begins to run into a negligent and thoughtlefs licen- tioufnefs? With regard to all fuch matters, what would hold good in any one cafe would fcarce do fo exactly in any other, and what conftitutes the propri- ety and happinefs of behaviour varies in every cafe with thefmaileft variety of fituation. Books of ca- fuiftry, therefore, are generally as ufelefs as they are commonly tirefome. They could be of little ufe to one who mould confult them upon occafion, even fuppofing their decifions to be juft -, becaufe, notwith- ftanding the multitude of cafes collected in them, yet upon account of the flill greater variety of pofli- ble circumftances, it is a chance, if among all thofe cafes there be found one exactly parallel to that under confideration. One, who is really anxious to do his duty, muft be very weak, if he can imagine that he has much occafion for them ; and with regard to one who is negligent of it, the ftyle of thofe writings is not fuch as is likely to awaken him to more atten- tion. None of them tend to animate us to what is generous and noble. None of them tend to foften us to what is gentle and humane. Many of them, on the contrary, tend rather to teach us to chicane with our own confeiences, and by their vain fubtil- ties ferve to authorize innumerable, evafive refine- ments with regard to the moil eifential articles of our duty. That frivolous accuracy which they attempt- ed to introduce intafubje&s which do not admit of
it,
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy, 585
it, almoft neceflarily betrayed them into thofe danger rous errours, and at the fame time rendered their works dry and difagreeable, abounding in abftrufe and metaphyfical distinctions, but incapable of ex- citing in the heart any of thofe emotions which it is the principal ufe of books of morality to excite*
The two nfeful parts of moral philofophy, there- fore, are Ethics and Jurifprudence : cafuiftry ought to be rejected altogether, and the ancient moraltfts appear to have judged much better, who, in treating of the fame fubjects, did not affect any fuch nice exactnefs, but contented themfelves with defcribing, in a general manner, what is the fentiment upon which juftice, modefty, and veracity are founded, and what is the ordinary way of acting to which thole virtues would commonly prompt us.
Something, indeed, not unlike the doctrine of the cafuifls, feems to have been attempted by feve- ral philofophers. There is fomething of this kind in the third book of Cicero's Offices, where he en- deavours like a cafuift to gives rules for our conduct in many nice cafes, in which it is difficult to deter- mine whereabouts the point of propriety may lie. It appears too, from many paflages in the fame books that feveral other philofophers had attempted fome- thing of the fame kind before him. Neither he nor they, however, appear to have aimed at giving a complete fyftem of this fort, but only meant to fhow how fituations may occur, in which it is doubtful* whether the higheft propriety of conduct confifts in obferving or in receding from what, in ordinary cafes, are the rules of duty.
C c Everv
386 O/Svstems Part VI.
Every fyftem of pofitive law may be regarded as a more or lefs imperfect attempt towards a fyftem of natural jurifprudence, or towards an enumeration of the particular rules of juftice. As the violation of juftice is what men will never fubmit to from one another, the public magiftrate is under a neceflity of employing the power of the commonwealth to enforce the practice of this virtue. Without this precaution, civil fociety would become a fcene of bloodfhed and diforder, every man revenging himfelf at his own hand whenever he fancied he was injured. To pre- vent the confufion which would attend upon every man's doing juftice to himfelf, the magiftrate, in all governments that have acquired any confiderable au- thority, undertakes to do juftice to all, and promi- fes to hear and to redrefs every complaint of injury. In all well-governed ftates too, not only judges are appointed for determining the controverfies of indi- viduals, but rules are prefcribed for regulating the decifions of thofe judges ; and thefe rules are, in general, intended to coincide with thofe of natural juftice. It does not, indeed, always happen that they do fo in every inftance. Sometimes what is called the conftitution of the ftate, that is, the in- tereft of the government ; fometirnes of the inter- eft of particular orders of men who tyrannize the government, warp the pofitive laws of the country from what natural juftice would prefcribe. In fome countries, the rudenefs and barbarifm of the people hinder the-natural fentiments of juftice from arriving at that accuracy and precifion which, in more civi- lized nations, they naturally attain to. Their laws are, like their manners, grofs and rude and undif- tinguiQiing. Ir other countries the unfortunate conftitution of their courts of judicature hinders any regular fyftem of jurifprudence from ever eftablifh-
ing
Se6l.lV. of Moil Ah Philosophy. 387
ing itfelf among them, though the improved manners of the people may be fuch as would admit of the mod accurate. In no country do the decifions of pofitive law coincide exactly, in every cafe, with the rules which the natural ienfe of juftice would dictate* Syftems of pofitive law, therefore, though they deferve the greatest authority, as the records of the fentiments of mankind in different ages and na- tions, yet can never be regarded as accurate fyftems of the rules of natural juftice.
It might have been expected that the feafonings of lawyers, upon the different imperfections and im- provements of the laws of different countries, ihould have given occafion to an inquiry into what were the natural rules of juftice independent of all pofitive inftitution. It might have been expected that thele reafonings fnould have led them to aim at eftablifh- ing a fyftem of what might properly be called na- tural jurifprudence, or a theory of the general prin- ciples which ought to run through and be the foun- dation of the laws of all nations. But tho' the rea- fonings of lawyers did produce fomething of this kind, and though no man has treated fyftematically of the laws of any particular country, without in- termixing in his work many obfervationsof this fort -t it was very late in the world before any fuch general fyftem was thought of, or before the philofophy of law was treated of by itfelf, and without regard to the particular inftitutions of any one nation. In none of the ancient moralifts, do we find any attempt to- wards a particular enumeration of the rules of juftice* Cicero in his Offices, and Ariftotle in his Ethics, treat of juftice in the fame general manner in which they treat of all the other virtues. In the laws of C c 2 Cicero
3«8 " Of Systems,^. Part VI.
Cicero and Plato, where we might naturally have ex- pected fome attempts towards an enumeration of thofe rules of natural equity, which ought to be enforced by the pofitive laws of every country, there is however, nothing of this kind. Their laws are laws of police, not of juftice. Grotius feems to have been the firft, who attempted to giv*e the world any thing like a fyftem of thofe principles which ought to run through, and be the foundation of the laws of all nations •, and his treatife of the laws of war and peace, with all its imperfections, is perhaps at this day the mod complete work that has yet been given upon this fubjedt. I fhali in another difcourfe endeavour to give an account of the general principles of law and government, and of the different revolutions they have undergone in the different ages and periods of fociety, not only in what concerns juftice, but in what concerns police, revenue, and arms, and what- ever elfe is the object of law. I mall not, therefore, at prefent enter into any further detail concerning the hiftory of jurifprudence.
THE END.
C 3*9 ] C O N S I D E R A T I O N S
Concerning the FIRST
FORMATION of LANGUAGES,
AND THE
Different Genius of original and compounded LANGUAGES.
_JL H E aflignation of particular names, to denote particular objects, that is, the inftitution of nouns fubftantive, would, probably, be one of the firfc fteps towards the formation of language. Two favages, who had never been taught to fpeak, but had been bred up remote from the focieties of men, would naturally begin to form that language by which they would endeavour to make their mutual wants intelligible to each other, by uttering certain founds, whenever they meant to denote certain objects* Thofe objects only which were mofl familiar to them, and which they had mofl: frequent occafion to men- tion, would have particular names ailigned to themu The particular cave whole covering fheltered them from the weather, the particular tree whofe fruit relieved their hunger, the particular fountain whole water allayed their third, would firfl be denoted by the words cave, free, fountain, or by whatever other C c 3 appellations
39Q FORMATION OF
appellations they might think proper, in that primi- tive jargon, to mark them. Afterwards, when the more enlarged experience of thefe favages had led them to obferve, and their neceflary occafions obliged them to make mention of, other caves, and other trees, and other fountains, they would natu- rally beftow, upon each of thofe new objects, the lame name, by which they had been accuftomed to expreis the fimilar object they were firft acquainted with. The new objects had none of them any namp of its own, but each of them exactly refembled ano- ther object, which had fuch an appellation. It was Jmpoflible that thofe favages could behold the new objects, without recollecting the old ones ; and the name of the old ones, to which the new bore fo clofe a retemblance. When they, had occafion, therefore, to mention, or to point out to each other, any of the new objects, they would naturally utter the name of the correspondent old one, of which the idea could not fail, at that inftant, to prefent itfelf to their memory jn the ftrongeft and liyelieft manner. And thus, thofe words, which were originally the proper names of individuals, would each of them infenfibly become the common name of a multitude. A child that is juft learning to fpeak, calls every perfon who comes to the houfe its papa or its mama j and thus beflows upon the whole fpecies thofe names which it had been taught to apply to two individuals. I have known a clown, who did not know the proper name of the ri- ver which ran by his own door. It was the rivery he faid, and hs never heard any other name for it. His experience, it feems, had not led him to obferve any other river. The general word river ^ there - fore, was, it is evident, in his acceptance of it, a proper name, fignifying an individual object. If this
perfon
LANGUAGES. 391
perfon had been carried to another river, would he not readily have called it a river ? Could we fup- pofe any perfon living on the banks of the Thames fo ignorant, as not to know the general word river * but to be acquainted only with the particular word Thames, if he was brought to any other river, would he not- readily call it a "Thames? This, in reality, is no more than what they, who are well acquainted with the general word, are very apt to do. An Englifhman, defcribingany great river which he may have feen in fome foreign country, naturally fays, that it is another Thames. The Spaniards, when they firft arrived upon the coaft of Mexico, and ob- ferved the wealth, populoufnefs, and habitations of that fine country, fo much fuperior to the favage na- tions which they had been vifiting for fome time be- fore, cried out, that it was another Spain. Hence it was called New Spain ; and this name has ftuck to that unfortunate country ever fince. We fay, in the fame manner, of a hero, that he is an Alexander ; of an orator, that he is a Cicero ; of a philofopher, that he is a Newton. This way of fpeaking, which the grammarians call an Antonomafia, and which is Hill extremely common, though now not at all necefiary, demonftrates how much mankind are naturally dif- pofed to give to one object: the name of any other, which nearly refembles it, and thus to denominate a multitude, by what originally was intended to exprefs an individual.
It is this application of the name of an individual to a great? multitude of objects, whofe refemblance naturally recalls the idea of that individual, and of the name which expreffes it, that feems originally to have given occafion to the formation of thofe clafies
C c 4 and
392 FORMATION OF
and affortments, which, in the fchools, are called genera and fpecies, and of which the ingenious and eloquent M. Rouffeau of Geneva*, finds himfelf fo much at a lofs to account for the origin. What constitutes a fpecies is merely a number of objects, bearing a certain degree of relemblance to one ano- ther, and on that account denominated by a fingle appellation, which may be applied to exprefs any one of them.
When the greater part of objects had thus been ar- ranged under their proper claffes and affortments, diftinguifhed by fuch general names, it was impof- iible that the greater part of that almoft infinite num- ber of individuals, comprehended under each particu- lar afibrtment or fpecies, could have any peculiar or proper names of their own, diflinct from the general name of the fpecies. When there was occafion, therefore, to mention any particular object, it often became neceffary to diftinguifh it from the other ob- jects comprehended under the fame general name, either, firft, by its peculiar qualities -, or, fecondly, by the peculiar relation which it flood in to fome other things. Hence the neceffary origin of two other fets of words, of which the one ftiould exprefs qua- lity ; the other relation.
Nouns adjective are the words which exprefs qua- lity confidered as qualifying, or, as the fchoolmen fay, in concrete with, fome particular fubject. Thus the word green expreffes a certain quality confidered as qualifying, or as in concrete with, the particular
fubject
* Origine de 1'Inegalite. Partie premiere, p. 376, 377, Edition d'Amfterdam/tles Oeuvres diverfes de J. J. RoufTeau,
LANGUAGES. 393
fubject to which it may be applied. Words of this kind, it is evident, may ferve to diftinguifh particu- lar objects from others comprehended under the fame general appellation. The words green tree, for example, might ferve to diftinguifh a particular tree from others that were withered or blafted.
Prepofnions are the words which exprefs relation confidered, in the fame manner, in concrete with the co-relative object. Thus the prepofnions of, to, for9 with, by, above, below, &c. denote fome relation ful- filling between the objects expreffed by the words between which the prepofitions are placed ; and they denote that this relation is confidered in concrete with the co-relative object. Words of this kind ferve to diftinguifh particular objects from others of the fame fpecies, when thofe particular objects cannot be fo properly marked out by any peculiar qualities of their own. When we fay, the green tree of the meadowy for example, we diftinguifh a particular tree, not only by the quality which belongs to it, but by the relation which it ftands in to another object.
As neither quality nor relation can exift in abftract, it is natural to fuppofe that the words which denote them confidered in concrete, the way in which we always fee them fubfift, would be of much earlier invention, than thofe which exprefs them confidered in abftract, the way in which we never fee them fub- fift. The words green and blue would, in all proba- bility, be fooner invented than the words greennefs and bluenefs , the words above and below, than the words fuperiority and inferiority. To invent words of the latter kind requires a much greater effort of
abftraction
394 FORMATION OF
abftraction than to invent thofe of the former. It is probable, therefore, that fuch abftract terms would be of much later inftitution. Accordingly, their etymologies generally mow that they are fo, they being generally derived from others that are con- crete.
But though the invention of nouns adjective be much more natural than that of the abftract nouns fubftantive derived from them, it would ftill, howe- ver, require a confiderable degree of abftraction and generalization. Thofe, for example, who firft in- vented the words, green, blue, red, and the other names of colours, muft have obferved and compared together a great number of objects, muft have re- marked their refemblances and diflimilitudes in re- flect of the quality of colour, and muft have ar- ranged them, in their own minds, into different clafles and afibrtments, according to thofe refem- blances and diffimilitudes. An adjective is by na- ture a general, and in fome meafure, an abftract word, and neceflarily prefuppofes the idea of a certain fpe- cies or afibrtment of things, to all of which it is equally applicable. The word green could not, as we were fuppofing might be the cafe of the word cave, have been originally the name of an individual, and afterwards have become, by what grammarians call an Antonomafia the name of a fpecies. The word green denoting, not the name of a fubftance, but the peculiar quality of a fubftance, muft from the very firft have been a general word, and confidered as equally applicable to any other fubftance pofTeiTed of the fame quality. The man who firft diftinguifhed a particular object by the epithet of green, muft have obferved other objects that were not green, from
which
LANGUAGES. 39S
which he meant to feparate it by this appellation. The inditution of this name, therefore, fuppofes companion. It likewiie fuppofes fome degree of al> (traction. The perlbn who firft invented this appel- lation mud have didinguifhed the quality from the object to which it belonged, and mud have conceived the object as capable of fubfifling without the qua- lity. The invention, therefore, even of the fimpleft nouns adjective, mud have required more metaphy- fics than we are apt to be aware of. The different mental operations, of arrangement or claffing, of companion, and of abstraction, mud all have been employed, before even the names of the differ- ent colours, the lead metaphyfical of all nouns ad- jective, could be indituted. From all which I infer, that when languages were beginning to be formed, nouns adjective would by no means be the words of the earlied invention.
There is another expedient for denoting the dif- ferent qualities of different fubdances, which as it re- quires no abdraction, nor any conceived feparation of the quality from the fubject, feems more natural than the invention of nouns adjective, and which, upon this account, could hardly fail, in the fird formation of language, to be thought of before them. This expedient is to make fome variation upon the noun fubdantive itfelf, according to the different qua- lities which it is endowed with. Thus, in many lan- guages, the qualities both of fex and of the want of fex, are expreffed by different terminations in the nouns fubdantive, which denote objects fo qualified. In Latin, for example, lupus, lupa ; equus, equa-, ju- vencus, juvenca ; Julius, Julia ; Lucretius, Lucretia, &C. .denote the qualities of male and female in the
396 FORMATION OF
animals and perfons to whom fuch appellations be- long, without needing the addition of any adjective for this purpofe. On the other hand, the words fo- rum, pratum, plauftrum, denote by their peculiar ter- mination the total abfence of fex in the different fub- flances which they fland for. Both fex, and the want of all fex, being naturally confidered as qualities modifying and infeparable from the particular fub- ftances to which they belong, it was natural to exprefs them rather by a modification in the noun fubftan- tive, than by any general and abftract word expreflive of this particular fpecies of quality. The expreflion bears, it is evident, in this way, a much more exad analogy to the idea or object which it denotes, than in the other. The quality appears, in nature, as a modification of the fubftance, and as it is thus ex- preffed, in language, by a modification of the noun iubftantive, which denotes that fubftance, the qua- lity and the fubject are, in this cafe, blended toge- ther, if I may fay fo, in the exprefTion, in the fame manner, as they appear to be in the object and in the idea. Hence the origin of the mafculine, feminine, and neutral genders, in all the ancient languages. By means of thefe, the mod important of all distincti- ons, that of fubftances into animated and inanimated, and that of animals into male and female, feem to have been fufflciently marked without the affiftance of adjectives, or of any general names denoting this mod extenfive fpecies of qualifications.
There are no more than thefe three genders m
any of the languages with which I am acquainted •,
that is to fay, the formation of nouns fubftantive,
can, by itfelf, and without the accompaniment of ad-
^ jectives,
LANGUAGES.
97
je&ives, exprefs no other qualities but thofe three above-mentioned, the qualities of male, of female, of neither male nor female. I mould not, however, be furprifed, if, in other languages with which I am unacquainted, the different formations of nouns fub- ftantive ihould be capable of expreffing many other different qualities. The different diminutives of the Italian, and of fome other languages, do, in reality, fometimes, exprefs a great variety of different modi- fications in the fubftances denoted by thofe nouns which undergo fuch variations.
It was impoffible, however, that nouns fubftan- tive could, without lofing altogether their original form, undergo fo great a number of variations, as would be fufficient to exprefs that almoft infinite va- riety of qualities, by which it might, upon different occafions, be neceffary to fpecify and diftinguim. them. Though the different formation of nouns fubftantive, therefore, might, for fome time, fore- ftall the neceffity of inventing nouns adjective, it was impoffible that this neceffity could be foreftalled alto- gether. When nouns adjective came to be invented,, it was natural that they fhould be formed with fome fimilarity to the fubflantives, to which they were to ferve as epithets or qualifications. Men would na- turally give them the fame terminations with the fub- ftantives to which they were firft applied, and from that love of fimilarity of found, from that delight in the returns of the fame fyllables, which is in the foundation of analogy in all languages, they would be apt to vary the termination of the fame adjective, according as they had occafion to apply it to a maf- culine, to a feminine, or to a neutral fubftantive,
thief
398 FORMATION OF
They would fay, magnus lupus, magna lupa^ magnum pratum, when they meant to exprefs a great he wolf, a great Jhe wolf, a great meadow.
This variation, in the termination of the noun adjective, according to the gender of the fubftantive, which takes place in all the ancient languages, feems to have been introduced chiefly for the fake of a cer- tain fimilarity of found, of a certain fpecies of rhyme, which is naturally fo very agreeable to the human ear. Gender, it is to be obferved, cannot properly belong to a noun adjective, the fignification of which is always precifely the fame, to whatever fpecies of fubftantives it is applied. When we fay, a great man, a great woman, the word great has precifely the fame "meaning in both cafes, and the difference of the fex in the fubjects to which it may be applied, makes no fort of difference in its fignification. Magnus, magna, magnum, in the fame manner, are words which exprefs precifely the fame quality, and the change of the termination is accompanied with no fort of variation in the meaning. Sex and gender are qualities which belong to fubftances, but cannot be- long to the qualities of fubftances. In general, no quality, when confidered in concrete, or as qualifying fome particular fubject, can itfclf be conceived as the fubject of any other quality •, though when confi- dered in abftract it may. No adjective therefore can qualify any other adjective. A great good man, means a man.who is both great and good. Both the adjectives qualify the fubftantive •, they do not qua- lify one another. On the other hand, when we fay, the great goodnefs of the man, the word goo dnefs deno- ting a quality conficjered in abftract, which may it- felf be the fubject of other qualities, is upon that
account
LANGUAGES. 399
account capable of being qualified by the word, great.
If the original invention of nouns adje&ive would be attended with fo much difficulty, that of prepofi- tions would be accompanied with yet more. Every prepofition, as I have already obferved, denotes fome relation confidered in concrete with the co-relative object. The prepofition above, for example, denotes the relation of fuperiority, not in abftract, as it is cxprefftd by the word fuperiority, but in concrete with fome co-relative object. In this phrafe, for ex- ample, the tree above the cave, the word above, ex- prefTes a certain relation between the tree and the cave, and it exprefles this relation in concrete with the co- relative object, the cave. A prepofition al- ways requires, in order to complete the fenfe, fome other word to come after it ; as may be obferved in this particular inftance. Now, I fay, the original invention of fuch words would require a yet greater effort ofabftra&ion and generalization, than that of nouns adjective. Firft of all, a relation is, in itfelf, a more metaphyfical objed than a quality. Nobody can be at a lots to explain what is meant by a quali- ty ; but few people will find themfelves able to ex- prefs, very diftindtly, what is underftood by a rela- tion. Qualities are almoft always the objects of our external fenfes -, relations never are. No wonder, therefore, that the one fet of objects mould be fo much more comprehenfible than the other. Second- ly, though prepofitions always exprefs the relation which they (land for, in concrete with the co-relative object, they could not have originally been formed without a confiderable effort of abftraction. A pre- pofition denotes a relation, and nothing but a relation.
But
4oo FORMATIONOF
But before men could inftitute a word, which fignified a relation, and nothing but a relation, they mud have been able, in fome meaiure, to con- fider this relation abftractedly from the related ob- jects •, fince the idea of thofe objects does not, in any refpect, enter into the fignification of the prepofition. The invention of luch a word, therefore, muft have required a confiderable degree of abftraction. Third- ly, a prepofition is from its nature a general word, which, from its very firft inftitution, muft have been confidered as equally applicable to denote any other fimilar relation. The man who firft invented the word above, muft not only have diftinguifhed, in fome meafure, the relation of fuperiority from the ob- jects which were fo related, but he muft alio have diftinguilhed this relation from other relations, fuch as, from the relation of inferiority denoted by the word below, from the relation of juxtapofition> ex- preffed by the word befede, and the like. He muft have conceived this word, therefore, as exprefllve of a particular fort or fpecies of relation diftinct from every other, which could not be done without a confiderable effort of comparifon and generalization.
Whatever were the difficulties, therefore, which embarrafled the firft invention of nouns adjective, the fame, and many more, muft have embarrafied that of prepofitions. If mankind, therefore, in the firft formation of languages, feem to have, for fome time, evaded the neceility of nouns adjective, by varying the termination of the names of fubftances, according as thefe varied in fome of their moft impor- tant qualities, they would much more find them- felves under the neceility of evading, by fome fimi- lar contrivance, the yet more difficult invention of
prepofitions.
LANGUAGES. 401
prepofitions. The different cafes in the ancient languages is a contrivance of precifely the fame kincf . The genitive and dative cafes, in Greek and Latin, evidently fupply the place of the prepofitions 3 and by a variation in the noun fubftantive, which (lands for the co- relative term, exprefs the relation which i'ubfi (Is between what is denoted by that noun fub- ftantive, and what is expreffed by fome other word in the fentence. In thefe expreffions, for example, fruclus arborise the fruit of the tree ; facer Herculi, f acred to Horcules ; the variations made in the co- re- lative words, arbor and Hercules, exprefs the fame relations which are expreffed in Englifh by the prepo- fitions </and to.
To exprefs a relation in this manner, did not re- quire any effort of abftra&ion. It was not here ex- preffed by a peculiar word denoting relation and no-, thing but relation, but by a variation upon the co- relative term. It was expreffed here, as k appears in nature, not as fomething feparaced and detached, but as thoroughly mixed and blended with the co- rela- tive object.
To exprefs relation in this manner, did not require any effort of generalization. The words arboris and Herculi, while they involve in their fignification the fame relation expreffed by the Englifh prepofitions of and to, are not, like thofe prepofitions, general words, which can be applied to exprefs the fame re- lation between whatever other objects it might be obferved to fubfift.
To exprefs relation in this manner did not require any effort of comparifon. The words arboris and
D d Herculi
402 FORMATION 0 F
Herculi are not general words intended to denote a particular fpecies of relations which the inventors of rhofe expreflions meant, in confequence of fome fort cf comparifon, to feparate and diftinguifh from every other fort of relation. The example, indeed, of this contrivance would foon probably be fol- lowed, and whoever had occafion to exprefs a firm- lar relation between any other objedts would be very apt to do it by making a fimilar variation on the name of the co-relative object. This, I fay, would probably, or rather certainly happen •, but it would happen without any intention or forefight in thofe who firft fet the example, and who never meant to eftablifh any general rule. The general rule would eftabliih itfelf infenfibly, and by flow degrees, in confequence of that love of analogy and fimilarity of found, which is the foundation of by far the greater part of the rules of grammar.
To exprefs relation therefore, by a variation in the name of the co-relative object, requiring neither abstraction, nor generalization, nor comparifon of any kind, would, at firft, be much more natural and eafy, than to exprefs it by thofe general words called prepofitions, of which the firft invention mud have demanded fome degree of all thofe operations.
The number of cafes is different in different lan- guages. There are five in the Greek, fix in the Latin, and there are faid to be ten in the Armenian language. It mud have naturally happened that there mould be a greater or a fmaller number of cafes, according as in the terminations of nouns fub- ftantive the firft formers of any language happened to have eftablifhed a greater or a fmaller number of
variations,
LANGUAGES. 405
variations, in order to exprefs the different relations they had occafion to take notice of, before the in- vention of thofe more general and abflracl: prepofi- tions which could fupply their place.
It is, .perhaps, worth while to obferve that thofe prepofitions, which in modern languages hold the place of the ancient cafes, are, of all others, the mod genera], and abflracl:, and metaphyfical ; and of confequence, would probably be the laft invented. Afk any man of common acutenefs, "What relation is expreffed by the prepofition above ? He will readily anfwer, that offuperiority. By the prepofition below ? He will as quickly reply, that of inferiority. But afk him, what relation is expreffed by the prepofition of, and, if he has not beforehand employed his thoughts a good deal upon thefe fubjedls, you may fafely allow iiim a week to confider of his anfwer. The prepofitions above and below do not denote any of the relations expreffed by the cafes in the ancient languages. But the prepofition of, denotes the fame relation, which is in them expreffed by the genitive cafe ; and which, it is eafy to obferve, is of a very metaphyfical nature. The prepofition of denotes relation in general, confidered in concrete with the co-yrelative object. It marks that the noun fub- ftantive which goes before ir, is fomehow or other related to that which comes after it, but without in any refpecl afcertaining, as is done by the prepofition above, what is the peculiar nature of that relation. We often apply ir, therefore, to exprefs the moft oppofite relations •, becaufe, the moft oppofite rela- tions agree fo far that each of them comprehends in it the general idea or nature of a relation. We fay, the father of the fon, and the f on of the father ± the D d 2 fir-
404 FORMATION OF
fir-trees of the foreft, and the foreft of the fir-trees. The relation in which the father (lands to the fon, is, it is evident, a quite oppofite relation to that in which the fon (lands to the father \ that in which the parts Hand to the whole, is quite oppofite to that in which the whole {lands to the parts. The word of however, ferves very well to denote all thofe rela- tions, becaufe in itfelf it denotes no particular rela- tion, but only relation in general », and lb far as any particular relation is collected from fuch expreffions, it is inferred by the mind, not from the prepofition itfelf, but from the nature and arrangement of the fubflantives, between which the prepofition is placed.
What I have faid concerning the prepofition of, may in fome meafure be applied to the prepofitions, to, for, with, by, and to whatever other prepofitions are made ufe of in modern languages, to fupply the place of the ancient cafes. They all of them ex- prefs very abftracl: and metaphyseal relations, which any man, who takes the trouble to try it, will find it extremely difficult to exprefs by nouns fubftantive, in the fame manner as we may exprefs the relation denoted by the prepofition above, by the noun fub- ftantive fuperiority. They all of them, however, ex- prefs fome fpecific relation, and are, confequently, none of them fo abftracl: as the prepofition of, which may be regarded as by far the moft meta- physeal of all prepofitions. The prepofitions there- fore, which are capable of fupply ing the place of the ancient cafes, being more abftracl: than the other prepofitions, would naturally be of more difficult invention. The relations at the fame time which thofe prepoiitioss exprefs, are, of all others, thofe which we have moft frequent occafion to mention.
The
LANGUAGES. 405
The prepofitions above, below, near, within, without, againft, &c. are much more rarely made ufe of, in modern languages, than the prepofitions of, to, for, with, from, by, A prepofnion of the former kind will not occur twice in a page ; we can fcarce com- pofe a fingle fentence without the afTiftance of one or two of the latter. If thefe latter prepofitions, therefore, which fupply the place of the cafes, would be of fuch difficult invention on account of their abftractednefs, fome expedient, to fupply their place, mud have been of indifpenfable necefiity, on account of the frequent occafion which men have to take notice of the relations which they denote. But there is no expedient fo obvious, as that of varying the termination of one of the principal words.
It is, perhaps, unneceffary to obferve, that there are fome of the cafes in the ancient languages, which, for particular reafons, cannot be reprefented by any prepofitions. Thefe are the nominative, accufative, and vocative cafes. In thofe modern languages^ which do not admit of any fuch variety in the ter- minations of their nouns fubftantive, the corre- fpondent relations are exprefied by the place of the words, and by the order and conftruction of the fen- tence.
As men have frequently occafion to make men- tion of multitudes as well as of fingle objects, it became necefTary that they mould have fome method of exprefiing number. Number may be expreffed either by a particular word, exprefiing number in general, fuch as the words many, more, &c. or by fome, variation upon the words which exprefs the things numbered. It is this laft expedient which D d 3 mankind
4o6 FORMATION OF
mankind would probably have recourfe to, in the infancy of language. Number, confidered in gene* raff without relation to any particular fet of objects numbered, is one of the mod abftract and me- taphyseal ideas, which the mind of man is capable of forming •, and, confequently, is not an idea, which would readily occur to rude mortals, who were juft beginning to form a language. They would naturally, therefore, diftinguifh when they talked of a fingle, and when they talked of a mul- titude of objects, not by any metaphyseal adjectives, luch as the Englifh, a, an, many* but by a variation upon the termination of the word which fignified the objects numbered. Hence the origin of the fingular and plural numbers, in all the ancient lan- guages j and the fame diftinction has likewife been retained in all the modern languages, at lead, in the greater part of words.
All primitive and nncompounded languages feem to have a dual, as well as a plural number. This is the cafe of the Greek, and I am told of the He- brew, of the Gothic, and of many other languages. In the rude beginnings of fociety, one, two, and more, might poflibly be all the numeral diflinctions which mankind would have any occafion to take notice of. Thefe they would find it more natural to exprefs, by a variation upon every particular noun fubftan- tive, than by fuch general and abftract words as one, two, three, four, &c. Thefe words, though cuftom has rendered them familiar to us, exprefs, perhaps, the mod fubtile and refined abftractions, which the mind of man is capable of forming. Let any one confider within himfelf, for example, what he means
by
LANGUAGES. 407
by the word three, which fignifies neither three (hil- lings, nor three pence, nor three men, nor three horfes, but three in general; and he will eafily fa- tisfy himfelf that a word, which denotes fo very me- taphyfical an abftraction, could not be either a very obvious or a very early invention. I have read of fome favage nations, whofe language was capable of ex- preffing no more than the three firft numeral diftinc- tions. But whether it exprefTed thofe diftinctions by- three general words, or by variations upon the nouns fubftantive, denoting the things numbered, I do not remember to have met with any thing which could determine.
As all the fame relations which fubfift between fingle, may likewife fubfift between numerous ob- jects, it is evident there would be occafion for the fame number of cafes in the dual and in the plural, as in the lingular number. Hence the intricacy and complexnefs of the declenfions in all the ancient languages. In the Greek there are five cafes in each of the three numbers, confequently fifteen in all.
As nouns adjective, in the ancient languages, varied their terminations according to the gender of the fubftantive to which they were applied, fo did they likewife, according to the cafe and the number. Every noun adjective in the Greek language, there- fore, having three genders, and three numbers, and five cafes in each number, may be confidered as having five and forty different variations. The firft formers of language feem to have varied the termi- nation of the adjective, according to the cafe and the number of the fubftantive, for the fame reafon D d 4 which
408 FORMATION OF
which made them vary according to the gender ; the love of analogy, and of a certain regularity of found. In the fignification of adjectives there is neither cafe nor number, and the meaning of fuch words is always precifely the fame, notwithstanding all the variety of termination under which they appear. Magnus vir, magni viri, magnorum virorum j a great man, of a great man, of great men \ in all thefe ex- preffions the words magnus, magni, magnorum, as well as the word great, have precifely one and the fame fignification, though the fubftantives to which they are applied have not. The difference of termina- tion in the noun adjective is accompanied with no fort of difference in the meaning. An adjective denotes the qualification of a noun fubftantive. But the different relations in which that noun fubftantive may occafionally ftand, can make no fort of diffe- rence upon its qualification.
If the declenfions of the ancient languages are fo very complex, their conjugations are infinitely more fo. And the complexnefs of the one is founded upon the fame principle with that of the other, the difficulty of forming, in the beginnings of language, abftract and general terms.
Verbs mufl neceffarily have been coeval with the very firft attempts towards the formation of lan- guage. No affirmation can be exprefled without the affi fiance of fome verb. We never fpeak but in or- der to exprefe our opinion that fomething either is or is not. But the word denoting this event, or this matter of fact, which is the fubject of our affirma- tion, muft always be a verb.
^ Imperfonal
LANGUAGES. 409
Imperfonal verbs, which exprefs in one word a complete event, which preferve in the expreflion that perfect fimplicity and unity, which there always is in the object and in the idea, and which fuppofe no ab~ fraction, or metaphyfical divifion of the event into its feveral conftituent members of fubject and attri- bute, would, in all probability, be the fpecies of verbs firft invented. The verbs pluit, it rains ; nin- gity it fnows ; tonaty it thunders ♦, lucet, it is day ♦, turbatur, there is a confufiony &c. each of them ex- prefs a complete affirmation, the whole of an event, with that perfect fimplicity and unity with which the mind conceives it in nature. On the contrary, the phrafes, Alexander ambulat, Alexander walks *, Petrus fedety Peter fits, divide the event, as it were, into two parts, the perfon or fubject, and the attribute, or matter of fad, affirmed of that fubject. But in na- ture, the idea or conception of Alexander walking, is as perfectly and completely one fingle conception, as that of Alexander not walking. The divifion of this event, therefore, into two parts, is altogether ar- tificial, and is the effect of the imperfection of lan- guage, which, upon this, as upon many other occa- fions, fupplies, by a number of words, the want of one, which could exprefs at once the whole matter of fact that was meant to be affirmed. Every body mufl obferve how much more fimplicity there is in the natural expreflion, plait, than in the more artifi- cial expreflions, imber decidit, the rain falls ; or, tempeftas eft pluvia, the weather is rainy. In thefe two laft expreflions, the fimple event, or matter of fact, is artificially fplit and divided, in the one, into two •, in the other, into three parts. In each of them it is exprefifed by a fort of grammatical circumlocu- tion,
4io FORMATION OF
tion, of which the fignifkancy is founded upon a certain metaphyfical analyfis of the component parts of the idea exprefTed by the word phut. The firft verbs, therefore, perhaps even the firft words, made ufe of in the beginnings of language, would in all probability be fuch imperfonal verbs. It is obferved accordingly, I am told, by the Hebrew Gramma- rians, that the radical words of their language, from which all the others are derived, are ail of them verbs, and imperfonal verbs.
It is eafy to conceive how, in the progrefs of lan- guage, thofe imperfonal verbs mould become perfo- nal. Let us iuppofe, for example, that the word venit y it comes, was originally an imperfonal verb, and that it denoted, not the coming of fomething in general, as at prefent, but the coming of a particular object, fuch as the Lion. The firft favage inventors of language, we mail Iuppofe, when they obferved the approach of this terrible animal, were accuftom- ed to cry out to one another, venit, that is, the lion comes ; and that this word thus exprefTed a complete event, without the afliftance of any other. After- wards, when, on the further progrefs of language, they had begun to give names to particular fub- ftances, whenever they obferved the approach of any other terrible object, they would naturally join the name of that object to the word venit, and cry out, venit urfus, venit lupus. By degrees the word venit would thus come to fignify the coming of any terrible object,- and not merely the coming of the lion. It would now therefore, exprefs, not the com- ing of a particular object, but the coming of an ob- ject of a particular kind. Having become more ge- neral in its fignificatiott, it could no longer reprefent
any
LANGUAGES. 411
any particular diftincl: event by itfelf, and without the afliftance of a noun fubftantive, which might ferve to afcertain and determine its fignification. It would now, therefore, have become a perfonal, in- ftead of an imperfonal verb. We may eafily con- ceive how, in the further progrefs of fociety, it might ftill.grow more general in its fignification, and come to fignify, as at prefent, the approach of any thing whatever, whether good, bad, or indifferent.
It is probably in fome fuch manner as this, that almoft all verbs have become perfonal, and that mankind have learned by degrees to fplit and divide almoft every event into a great number of metaphy- fical parts, expreffed by the different parts of fpeech, varioufly combined in the different members of every phrafe and fentence. * The fame fort of progrefs feems to have been made in the art of fpeaking as in the art of writing. When mankind firft began to attempt to exprefs their ideas by writing, every cha- racter reprefented a whole word. But the number of words being almoft infinite, the memory found itfelf quite loaded and oppreffed by the multitude of
characters
* As the far greater part of Verbs exprefs, at prefent, not an event, but the attribute of an event, and, confequently, require a fubjeft, or nominative cafe, to complete their fignification, fome grammarians, not having attended to this progrefs of nature, and being defirous to make their common rules quite univerfal, and without any exception, have infilled that all verbs required a nominative, either exprefled or underftood ; and have, accord- ingly put themfelves to the torture to find fome awkward nomi- natives to thofe few verbs, which flill exprefling a complete event, olainly admit of none- Pluit, for example, according to Sanftius* 1 means flwvia plait, in Englim, the rain rains, See Sanclii Mi- nerva, 1. 5. c. rf
4i2 FORMATION OF
characters which it was obliged to retain. Neceffity taught them, therefore, to divide words into their elements, and to invent characters which mould re- prefent, not the words themfelves, but the elements of which they were compofed. In confequence of this invention, every particular word came to be re- prefented, not by one character, but by a multitude of characters •, and the expreflion of it in writing be- came much more intricate and complex than before. But though particular words were thus reprefented by a greater number of characters, the whole lan- guage was exprefied by a much fmaller, and about four and twenty letters were found capable of fup- plying the place of that immenfe multitude of cha- racters, which were requifite before. In the fame manner, in the beginnings of language, men feem to have attempted to exprefs every particular event, which they had occafion to take notice of, by a par- ticular word, which exprefied at once the whole of that event. But as the number of words muft, in this cafe, have become really infinite, in confequence of the really infinite variety of events, men found themfelves partly compelled by neceffity, and partly conducted by nature, to divide every event into what may be called its metaphyfical elements, and to inftitute words, which mould denote not fo much the events, as the elements of which they were com- pofed. The expreflion of every particular event, became in this manner more intricate and complex, but the whole fyftem of the language became more coherent, more connected, more eafily retained and comprehended.
When verbs, from being originally imperfonal had thus, by the divifioo of the event into its metaphy- fical
LANGUAGES. 4iS
fical elements, become perfonal, it is natural to fup~ pofe that they would firft be made ufe of in the third perfon lingular. No verb is ever uled imperfonally in our language, nor, fo far as I know, in any other modern tongue. But in the ancient languages, whenever any verb is ufed imperfonally, it is always in the third perfon fingular. The termination of thofe verbs, which are ftiil always imperfonal, is conftantly the fame with that of the third perfon fin- gular of perfonal verbs. The confideration of thefe circumftances, joined to the naturalnefs of the thing itfelf, may ferve to convince us that verbs firfc be- came perfonal in what is now called the third perfon fingular.
But as the event, or matter of fact, which is ex- preffed by a verb, may be affirmed either of the per- fon who fpeaks, or of the perfon who is fpoken to, as well as of fome third perfon or object, it became neceffary to fall upon fome method of exprefTing thefe two peculiar relations of the event. In the Englifh language this is commonly done, by pre- fixing, what are called the perfonal pronouns, to the general word which expreffes the event affirmed. I came y you came^ he or it came\ in thefe phrafes the event of having come is, in the firft, affirmed of the fpeaker ; in the fecond, of the perfon fpoken to j in the third, of fome other perfon, or object. The firft formers of language, it may be imagined, might have done the fame thing, and prefixing in the fame man- ner the two firft perfonal pronouns, to the fame ter- mination of the verb, which exprefTed the third per- fon fingular, might have faid, ego venit, tu venit% as well as ilk or illudvenit, And I make no doubt
but
4H FORMATION OF
but they would have done fo, if at the time when they had firft occafion to txprefs thefe relations of the verb, there had been any fuch words as either ego or tu in their language. But in this early period of the language, which we are now endeavouring to de- fcribe, it is extremely improbable that any fuch words would be known. Though cuftom has now rendered them familiar to us, they, both of them, exprefs ideas extremely metaphyseal and abftract. The word /, for example, is a word of a very parti- cular fpecies. Whatever fpeaks may denote itfelf by this peribnal pronoun. The word I, therefore, is a general word, capable of being predicated, as the lo- gicians fay, of an infinite variety of objects. It dif- fers, however, from all other general words in this refpect ; that the obje&s of which it may be predi- cated, do not form any particular fpecies of objects diftinguiQied from all others. The word /, does not, like the word man, denote a particular clafs of objects, feparated from all others by peculiar qua- lities of their own. It is far from being the name of a fpecies, but, on the contrary, whenever it is made ufe of, it always denotes a precife individual, the par- ticular perfon who then fpeaks. It may be faid to be, at once, both what the logicians call, a Angular, and what they call, a common term ; and to join in its fignification the feemingly oppofite qualities of the moft precife individuality, and the moil extenfive generalization. This word, therefore, exprefling fo very abftract and metaphyfical an idea, would not eafily or readily occur to the firft formers of language. What are called the perfonal pronouns, it may be obferved, are among the laft words of which chil- dren learn to make life* A child, fpeaking of itfelf,
fays,
LANGUAGES. 415
fays, Billy walks, Billy fits, inftead of / walk, I fit. As in the beginnings of language, therefore, man- kind feem to have evaded the invention of at leaft the more abftract propofitions, and to have exprefTed the fame relations which thefe now ftand for, by vary- ing the termination of the co-relative term, fo they likewife would naturally attempt to evade the necef- lity of inventing thofe more abftracl pronouns by va- rying the termination of the verb, according as the event which it exprefTed was intended to be affirmed of the firft, fecond, or third perfon. This feems, accordingly, to be the univerfal practice of all the ancient languages. In Latin, veni, venifti, venit, fuf- flciently denote, without any other addition, the dif- ferent events expreffed by the Englifh phrafes, / came, you came, he', or -it came. The verb would, for the fame reafon, vary its termination, according as the event was intended to be affirmed of the firft, fecond, or third perfons plural •, and what is expreffed by the Englifh phrafes, we came, ye came, they came, would be denoted by the Latin words, venimus, ve- nifiis, venerunt. Thofe primitive languages, too, which, upon account of the difficulty of inventing numeral names, had introduced a dual, as well as a plural number, into the declenfion of their nouns iubftantive, would probably, from analogy, do the fame thing in the conjugations of their verbs. And thus in all thofe original languages, we might ex- pect to find, at leaft fix, if not eight or nine varia- tions, in the termination of every verb, according as the event which it denoted was meant to be affirm- ed of the firft, fecond, or third perfons fingular, dual, or plural. Thefe variations again being re- peated, along with others, through all its dif- ferent tenfes, modes and voices, mud neceffarily
have
4i6 FORMATION OF
have rendered their conjugations (till more intricate and complex than their declenfions.
Language would probably have continued upon this footing in all countries, nor would ever have grown more fimple in its declenfions and conjugati- ons, had it not become more complex in its co.mp.o- fition, in conlequence of the mixture of feveral lan- guages with one another, occafioned by the mixture of different nations. As long as any language was fpoke by thofe only who learned it in their infancy, the intricacy of its declenfions and conjugations could occafion no great embarrailment. The far greater part of thofe who had occafion to fpeak ir5 had acquired it at h very early a period of their lives, fo infenfibly and by fuch flow degrees, that they were fcarce ever fenfible of the difficulty. Blu when two nations came to be mixed with one ano- ther, either by conqueft or migration, the caie would be very different. Each nation, in order to make itfelf intelligible to thofe with whom it was under the neceffity of converfing, would be obligee to learn the language of the other. The greater parv of individuals too, learning the new language, not by art, or by remounting to its rudiments and firfc principles, but by rote, and by what they commonly heard in converfation, would be extremely perplexed by the intricacy of its declenfions and conjugations They would endeavour, therefore, to fupply their ignorance of thefe, by whatever fhift the language could afford them. Their ignorance of the declenfi- ons they would naturally fupply by the ufe of pre- pofitions ; and a Lombard, who was attempting to fpeak Latin, and wanted to exprefs that fuch a per- fon was a citizen orRome, or a benefactor to Rome,
if
Languages. 417
if he happened not to be acquainted with the geni- tive and dative cafes of the word Roma, would natu- rally exprefs himfelf by prefixing the prepofitions ad and de to the nominative ; and, inftead of Roma, would fay, ad Roma, and de Roma. Al Roma and di Roma, accordingly, is the manner in which the prefent Italians, the defcendants of the ancient Lom- bards and Romans, exprefs this and all other fimilar relations. And in this manner prepofitions feem to have been introduced, in the room of the ancient declenfions. The fame alteration has, I am informed, been produced upon the Greek language, fince the taking of Conftantinople by the Turks. The words are, in a great meafure, the fame as before-, buc the grammar is entirely loft, prepofitions having come in the place of the old declenfions. This change is undoubtedly a fimplification of the langu- age, in point of rudiments and principle. It intro- duces, inftead of a great variety of declenfions, one univerfal declenfion, which is the fame in every word, of whatever gender, number, or termination.
A fimilar expedient enables men, in the fituation above mentioned, to get rid of almoft the whole in- tricacy of their conjugations. There is in every language a verb, known by the name of the fubftan- tive verb ; in Latin, fum -, in Englifh, / am. This verb denotes not the exiftence of any particular event, but exiftence in general. It is, upon this account, the moft abftract and metaphyseal of all verbs •, and, confequently, could by no means be a a word of early invention. When it came to be in- vented, however, as it had all the tenfes and modes of any other verb, by being joined with the paffive participle, it was capable of fupplying the place of E e chc
4i8- FORMATION OF
the whole paflive voice, and of rendering this part of their conjugations as fimple and uniform, as the ufe of prepofitions had rendered their declenfions. A Lombard, who wanted to fay, I am loved, but could not recoiled the word amor, naturally endeavoured to fupply his ignorance, by faying, ego fum amatus. Jo fono amato, is at this day the Italian expreflion* which correfponds to the Englifh. phrafe above men- tioned.
There is another verb, which, in the fame man- ner, runs through all languages, and which is diftin- guifhed by the name of the poffeflive verb ; in Latin, habeo\ in Englifh, I have. This verb, likewife, de- notes an event of an extremely abftract and metaphy- fical nature, and, confequently, cannot be fuppofed to have been a word of the earlieft invention. When it came to be invented, however, by being applied to the paflive participle, it was capable of fupplying a great part of the active voice, as the fubftantive verb had fupplied the whole of the paflive. A Lom- bard, who wanted to fay, I had loved, but could not recollecl the word amaveram, would endeavour to fupply the place of it, by faying either ego babebam amafum, or ego habui amatum. lo avevd amato, or Io ebbi amato, are the correfpondent Italian exprefli- ons at this day. And thus upon the intermixture of different nations with one another, the conjugations, by means of different auxiliary verbs, were made to approach towards the fimplicity and uniformity of the declenfions.
In general it may be laid down for a maxim, that the more fimple any>Janguage is in its composition,
the
LANGUAGES. . 4i9
■the more complex it mud be in its declenfions and conjugations ♦, and, on the contrary, t^he more Am- ple it is in its declenfions and conjugations, the more complex it muft be in its composition. 3
The Greek teems, to be, in a great meafure, a fimple, uncompounded language, formed from the primitive jargon of thofe wandering favages, the an- cient Hellenians and Pelafgians, from whom the Greek nation is faid to have been descended. All the words in the Greek language are derived from about three hundred primitives, a plain evidence chat the Greeks farmed their language ajmoft entirely among themfelves, and that when they, had occafion for a new word, they were not ac.cuftomed, as we .are, to borrow it from fome foreign- language* but to form it, either by compofition or derivation from fome other word or words, in their owa. The de- clenfions and conjugations, therefore, TDf the Greek are much more complex than thofe of any other Eu~ ropean language with which I am acquainted.
The Latin is a compofition of the Greek and of the ancient Tufcan languages. Its declenfions and conjugations accordingly are much lefs complex than thofe of the Greek : it has dropt the dual number in both. Its verbs have no optative mood diflinguifhed by any peculiar termination. They have but one future. They have no aorift diftindt from the pre- terit-perfect ; they have no middle voice -, and even many of ..heir tenfes in the pafFive voice are eked out, in the fame manner as in the modern languages, by the help of the fubftantive verb joined to the paffive participle. In both the voices, the number of in- E e 2 finitives.
42o FORMATION OF
finitives and participles is much fmaller in the Latin than in the Greek.
The French and Italian languages are each of them compounded, the one of the Latin, and the language of the ancient Franks, the other of the fame Latin and the language of the ancient Lombards. As they are both of them, therefore, more complex in. their compofition than the Latin, fo are they like- wife more fimple in their declenfions and conjugati- ons. With regard to their declenfions, they have both of them loft their cafes altogether ; and with regard ,to their conjugations, they have both of them loft the whole of the paffive, and fome part of the active voices of their verbs. The want of the paffive voice they fupply entirely by the fubftantive verb joined to the' paffive participle j and they make out part of the active, in the fame manner, by the help of the pofleflive verb and the fame paffive partici- ple.
The Englifh is compounded of the French and the ancient Saxon languages. The French was in- troduced into Britain by the Norman conqueft, and continued, till the time of Edward III. to be the fole language of the law as well as the principal language of->the court. The Englifh, which came to be fpoken afterwards, and which continues to be jpoken now, is a mixture of the ancient Saxon and this Norm2n French. As the Englifh language, therefore, is more complex in its compofition than either the French or the Italian, fo is it likewile more fimple in its declenfions and conjugations. Thofe two languages retain, at leaft, a part of the diftinc- tion of genders, a?td their adjectives vary their ter- mination
LANGUAGES. 4*1
mination according as they are applied to a mafcu- line or to a feminine fubftantive. But there is no fuch diftinction in the Englifh language, whofe ad- jectives admit of no variety of termination. The French and Italian languages have, both of them, the remains of a conjugation, and all thofe tenfes of the active voice, which cannot be exprefled by the poffeflive verb joined to the paflive participle, as well as many of thofe which can, are, in thofe languages, marked by varying the termination of the principal verb. But almoft all thofe other tenfes are in the Englifh eked out by other auxiliary verbs, fo that there is in this language fcarce even the remains of a conjugation. I love, I loved, loving, are all the va- rieties of termination which the greater part of Eng- lifh verbs admit of. All the different modifications of meaning, which cannot be expreffed by any of thofe three terminations, mufl be made out by differ- ent auxiliary verbs joined to fome one or other of them. Two auxiliary verbs fupply all the deficien- cies of the French and Italian conjugations; it re- quires more than half a dozen to fupply thofe of the Englifh, which befides the fubftantive and pofTef- five verbs, makes ufe of do, did-, will, would-, Jhall? fhould; can, could-, may, might.
It is in this manner that language becomes more fimple in its rudiments and principles, juft in pro- portion as it grows more complex in its compofition, and the fame thing has happened in it, which com*- monly happens with regard to mechanical engines. All machines are generally, when firft invented, ex- tremely complex in their principles, and there is of- ;en a particular principle of motion for every parti- cular
422 FORMATION OF
cular movement which, it is intended, they ihould perform. Succeeding improvers obferve, that one principle may be To applied as to produce feveral of thofe movements, and thus the machine becomes gradually more and more fimple, and produces its effects with fewer wheels, and fewer principles of motion. In language, in the fame manner, every cafe of every noun, and every tenfe of every verb, was originally exprefTed by a particular diflind word, which ferved for this purpofe and for no other. But fucceeding obfervation difcovered that one kt of words was capable of fupplying the place of ail that infinite number, and that four or five prepofitions, and half a dozen auxiliary verbs, were capable of anfwering the end of all the declenfions, and of all the conjugations in the ancient languages.
But this fimplification of languages, though it arifes, perhaps, from fimilar caufes, has by no means fimilar effects with the correfpondent fimplification of machines. The fimplification of machines renders them more and more perfect, but this fimplification of the rudiments of languages renders them more and more imperfect and lefs proper for many of the pur- pofes of language : and this for the following reafans.
Firft of all, languages are by this fimplification rendered more prolix, feveral words having become necefiary to exprefs what could have been exprefifed by a fingle word before. Thus the words, Dei and, Deo, in the Latin, diffidently fhow, without any ad- dition, what relation, the object fignified is under- wood to (land in to the objects exprefTed by the other words in the fentence. But to exprefs the fame
relation
LANGUAGES. 423
relation inEnglifh,and in all other modern languages, we muft make ufe of, at lead, two words, and fay, of God, to God. So far as the declenfions are con- cerned, therefore, the modern languages are much more prolix than the ancient. The difference is (till greater with regard to the conjugations. What a Roman expreffed by the fmgle word, amavijfem, an Englilhman is obliged to exprefs by four different words, / Jhould have loved. It is unneceffary to take any pains to fhow how much this prolixnefs muft enervate the eloquence of all modern languages. How much the beauty of any expreffion depends upon its concifenefs, is well known to thofe who have any experience in compofition.
Secondly, this Amplification of the principles of languages renders them lefs agreeable to the ear. The variety of termination in the Greek and Latin, occafioned by their declenfions and conjugations, give a fweetnefs to their language altogether un- known to ours, and a variety unknown to any other modern language. In point of fweetnefs, the Ita- lian, perhaps, may furpafs the Latin, and almoft equal the Greek ; but in point of variety, it is greatly inferior to both.
Thirdly, this Amplification, not only renders the founds of our language lefs agreeable to the ear, but it alfo reftrains us from difpofing fuch founds as we have, in the manner that might be moil: agree able. It ties down many words to a particular fitua- tion, though they might often be placed in another with much more beauty. In the Greek and Latin, though the adjective and fubftantive were feparated
from
424 Formation op
from one another, the correfpondence of their termi- nations dill fhowed their mutual reference, and the feparation did not neceflarily occafion any fort of confufion. Thus in the firft line of Virgil :
Tityre tu patulce recubans fub tegmine fagi.
We eafily fee that tu refers to recubans, and patula to fagi ; though the related words are feparated from one another by the intervention of feveral others : becaufe the terminations, (bowing the cor- refpondence of their cafes, determine their mutual reference. But if we were ro tranflate this line liter- ally into Englifh, and fay, Tityrus, thou of fpreading reclining under the jhade beech, CEdipus himfelf could not make lenfe of it ; becaufe there is here no dif- ference of termination, to determine which fub- ftantive each adjedtive belongs to. It is the fame cafe with regard to verbs. In Latin the verb may often be placed, without an inconveniency or ambi- guity, in any part of the fentence. But in Engliili its place is almoft always precifely determined. It muft follow the fubjective and precede the objective member of the phrafe in almoft all cafes. Thus in Latin whether you fay, Joannem verberavit Robertus, or Robertus verberavit Joannem, the meaning is pre- cifely the fame, and the termination fixes John to be the fufferer in both cafes. But in Englifh John beat Robert, and Robert beat John, have by no means the fame figmfication. The place therefore of the three principal members of the phrafe is in the Englifh, and for the fame reafon in the French and Italian languages almoft always precifely determined ; whereas in the ancient languages a greater latitude is
allowed,
LANGUAGES.. *?|
allowed, and the place of thofe members is often, in a great meafure, indifferent. We muft have rccourfe to Horace, in order to interpret fome parts of Mil- ton's literal tranflatidn ;
Who now enjoys thee credulous' all gold, Who always vacant, always amiable Hopes thee-, of flattering gales Unmindful
are verfes which it is impoflible to interpret by any rules of our language. There are no rules in our language, by which any man could difcover, that, in the firft line, credulous referred to who, and not to thee; or, that all gold referred to any thing; or, that in the fourth line, unmindful, referred to who, in the fecond, and not to thee in the third ; or, on the con- trary, that, in the fecond line always vacant, always- amiable, referred to thee in the third, and not to who in the fame line with it. In the Latin, indeed, all this is abundantly plain.
§)ui nunc te fruit ttr credulus awed, Qui femper vacuam, femfer amabikm Sperat te \ nefcius aurxfallacis.
Becaufe the terminations in the Latin determine the reference of each adjective to its proper fubftantive, which it is impoflible for any thing in the Englifh to do. How much this power of tranfpofing the order of their words muft have facilitated the compofitiorj of the ancients, both in verfe and profe, can hardly be imagined. That it muft greatly have facilitated their verification it is needlefs to obfervc ; and m
F f profe,,
+26 FORMATION, &e.
profe, whatever beauty depends upon the arrange- ment and conftruchon of the feveral members of the period, muft to them have been acquirable with much more eafe, and to much greater perfection* than it can be to thofe whofe expreflion is conftant- ly confined by the prolixnefs, conftraint and mono- tony of modern languages.
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PRINTED IN U..S.A. |
BJ1005.S64
The theory of moral sentiments, or, An
Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer Library
1 1012 00161 6251
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